


Passing of the Skye Boat

by ChasetheWindTouchtheSky



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, F/M, Outlander!au, S2 Canon Divergence, time traveling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2019-11-08 23:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 44,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17990867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky/pseuds/ChasetheWindTouchtheSky
Summary: After returning from war as an army nurse, Clarke and her fiancé are exploring Washington D.C. as a way to relearn each other due to their time apart. But when Clarke stumbles across a NASA exhibit about ways to prevent the human race from dying from nuclear war – by way of livable space ship they are calling the ‘Ark’ – Clarke is transported elsewhere, and into another war.The Earth is different that she could ever imagine. Instead of the D.C. buildings she’s used to, everything is worn down and nature has overtaken the planet. She runs into someone who she thinks is her fiancé – as well as a gruff man to manages to save her life seconds upon meeting. That’s when Clarke realizes she’s hasn’t transported to another world, she’s transported forward in time. Now she must use her medical knowledge to somehow remain useful enough to stay alive and get home. Also, she needs to not fall for the man who saved her.The Outlander!AU with a canon twist no one asked for, but I decided to write anyway.





	1. Sing Me a Song

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I was taking a bit of a break from writing fanfic, but clearly that break was about as effective as the one between The Color of Grief and The Price of Peace. So… not effective at all. 
> 
> This idea has been rolling around in my mind for a while now, and I just couldn’t get it out. This’ll be an Outlander!AU with a canon twist – but if you haven’t seen Outlander, it’s really not a big deal. I will be forward and say this fic will not be as explicit as the book or shows, just because as you know from my writing, I’m not a smut author. 
> 
> This particular part in the 100 world: Mount Weather is still harvesting Grounders, while Arkadia is up and running with a tentative peace between each other as they try and get some people back from the Mountain. The mountain has been harvesting enough so that there are some mountain people wandering around, one who will become very apparent, very quickly.
> 
> As for ages, both Bellamy and Clarke are in their 20s in this scenario. :) And yes, the name is a pun of the song in the credits of Outlander, and the fact that Bellamy and Clarke are Sky People. You’re welcome.
> 
> I hope you enjoy! I’ve discovered S2 is a part of the story I love to write, but wasn’t in the fandom! Apparently I’m making up for lost time. ;)

PASSING OF THE SKYE BOAT

_By ChasetheWindTouchtheSky_

CHAPTER ONE

_Sing Me a Song_

 

 

_Washington D.C. – 2019_

 

When Clarke decided to tag along with Johnathan for his trip to Washington D.C., she knew there would be a good amount of time where she was left to her own devices. To be honest, she figured it’d be for the best – the two of them had just returned from a war only a few months ago as nothing more than strangers, deciding to take a trip to the nation’s capital to relearn who they were. Of course, that was only part of the deal. The other part was Johnathan’s new job as a consultant to get to know his employer while they were still in town.

 

Which is why Clarke finds herself wandering around the Smithsonian in the early hours of a Wednesday by herself, leaning close to see the paintings she’s only seen in textbooks. “Ah, I can tell that you’re an artist.”

 

Clarke startles at the voice, first thinking she’s done something wrong. When a tour guide smiles warmly at her, kind eyes behind his spectacles, she relaxes. “Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m not an artist.”

 

“Oh yes you are,” the man says. “Do you want to know how I know?”

 

“How?”

 

“You lean in,” he says, bringing his face as close to the painting as she did only moments before.

 

“I-I just wanted to see the brushstrokes.”

 

“Ah!” The man says, putting his finger up. “People who aren’t artists do not care about brush strokes, my dear. They don’t feel the need to press their faces as close as they possibly can before they touch the paintings. I love it when artists come in, but it always a little stressful.”

 

“Sorry,” Clarke responds sheepishly. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been in an art museum. And,” she says, her words quiet. “I’m not an artist. I mean, I used to love drawing when I was younger, and sure, it’s gotten me through some hard times, but that’s not what I do.”

 

“Being an artist isn’t what you do, it’s who you _are_.” The man says thoughtfully. “Just because it’s not what you do to pay the bills, does not mean it doesn’t live within your bones.”

 

Clarke huffs a laugh. “It’s a nice thought.”

 

“How do you spend your days, when you aren’t longing to study brushstrokes.”

 

“I’m a nurse,” Clarke says quietly. “An army nurse, actually. I-I just got back from oversees.”

 

The man doesn’t respond to that right away. He grows quiet, as most do when she mentions it. Then, she feels a gentle hand against her arm. “Thank you,”

 

He doesn’t say more than that. Clarke isn’t sure what to say when being thanked, especially with the memories of what happened over there so fresh in her mind. She reminds herself that she’s safe within this museum surrounded by war.

 

“What brings you to the capital?”

 

Clarke is grateful for a change of subject. “My fiancé and I haven’t seen each other in over a year – we’re both out of the military now. He’s starting a job as a weapons consultant and I’m about to start my tenure as a civilian nurse. We thought it would be nice to have a vacation before those new worlds start.”

 

“And you’re here by yourself?”

 

Clarke smiles. “Probably for the best,” Clarke says distantly. “He doesn’t feel the need to lean in on paintings nearly as much as I do.”

 

The man chuckles. “So you can be free to stare at paintings as long as you need.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Well, happy studying. I will say, we have a new exhibit in the main courtyard that you may want to check out. It isn’t open to the public yet, but to a select few that charm the security guard—” The man peers around him faux-conspiratorially, pulling a card out of his pocket. “Show this to them and they’ll let you see it.”

 

Clarke takes the pass and beams. “What’s the exhibit of?”

 

“NASA just released some new technology of what they plan to do when the world is disintegrated to a complete disinterest in climate change, or hell, if we have a full nuclear meltdown that destroys the planet. It’s the first of its kind – a spaceship that could potentially keep the human race alive in case the Earth isn’t livable anymore. Crazy, right?”

 

Clarke frowns at the card in her hand. “Every day, it seems less and less crazy,” she says to herself. “Thank you!” She reminds herself to call to him. “Thank you so much, I really appreciate it.”

 

Except the man is gone. She looks around, trying to find a place where he might’ve run off to, but sees nothing. Holding the pass in her hands, she shakes the feeling that something very odd just happened. She continues through the exhibit as she once had, but there’s something in the back of her mind. The pass feels like a weight that’s holding her down, and she can’t help but ask for directions to the new exhibit.

 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. When she pulls it out, she sees a message from Johnathan, his face lighting up her screen. He’s a handsome one, time apart didn’t make her forget that. He has a childish warmth around his eyes she’s always loved. They’ve only been back together for a month, but the intense love she once felt for him was already back with her, as they relearned who they are as these new people.

 

 **Johnathan:** _Meeting ended early. In time for lunch with my love?_

 

Clarke can’t help but smile at his. He was always much better with words of affection than she was – his letters to her in war something that could be put in a museum and have women faun over. She’s always been much more direct and clear, but never hid how much she loved him.

 

Except right now?

 

If she took a bus back to their hotel, she could meet him for lunch. But then she wouldn’t be able to see the NASA exhibit. Sure, she’d never really been one to want to be an astronaut, but has always been a lover of the stars. She took the Stephen Hawking quote to heart – never look at your feet, always raise your sights to the stars.

 

Biting the inside of her lip, Clarke peers between her phone and the ticket in her hand.

 

 **Clarke:** _So sorry – I think I may have wandered too far. I don’t think you’d be able to make your 2:00pm meeting._

 

 **Johnathan:** _My weary traveler… ;P_

 

 **Clarke:** _You know me, never an adventure too small_

 

 **Johnathan:** _We still on for dinner?_

 

 **Clarke:** _Wouldn’t miss it. <3_

 

He sends her an emoji of a kissing face, which she laughs at. She isn’t sure when he started using those – he once called them lazy consonants – but it makes her smile nonetheless. A part of her feels a little bad that she’s not going to have lunch with him, and she knows that if she explained the situation, he would understand. But everything is still so fresh – their time apart is simply too new for her to risk it.

 

Wandering outside, Clarke blinks in the crisp D.C. air. It’s so loud here in the city, but loud in a different way than she’s used to. The noise doesn’t mean that she’s in danger, the yelling doesn’t mean that someone is hurt. She tells herself this over and over again, until she finds herself facing the courtyard.

 

There are caution ropes everywhere, as well as a security guard standing out front with his hands crossed. “Hi,” she says walking up, feeling more nervous than she should. “I was given this to see the exhibit early?”

 

The security guard drops his eyes down to the piece of paper. “Ah, Jerry has been handing those out again. Feel free to look around. Don’t touch anything.”

 

“I would never—”

 

“I just mean, the exhibit is still going up. Things are a bit in flux.”

 

“Of course.”

 

Clarke moves past the barriers and inside the exhibit. She’s greeted to a sign that reads **_THE ARK PROJECT_** above her head, renderings of large mechanical wheels in the sky. It makes her shiver, thinking of being trapped in there. She watches everyone bustle around to get the exhibit ready, feeling very out of place as she wanders around, trying to stay out of the way.

 

The exhibit is intoxicating, though. Charts and data about the end of the world – about how humanity will destroy itself – is a terrifying, but believable though. She fiddles with the ends of her braid as she reads. “Scary, isn’t it?”

 

Clarke needs to stop letting people startle her. When a man in a pair of jeans and a hard hat steps up to her, she flinches. “Yeah, it’s really scary.”

 

“And we still have people saying climate change isn’t real. Can you imagine the amount of ignoring you have to employ to do that?”

 

“Sometimes it’s easier to pretend things aren’t as bad as they are.” Clarke muses. “It’s a way to keep sane.”

 

“Well, they’re driving me insane.” The man laughs. “You know, the best part of the exhibit is actually through those doors. They have an actual example of a hallway that they’re putting in the Ark.”

 

Clarke makes a surprised noise. “You mean NASA is actually building this in case humanity blows itself up?”

 

“You think it won’t? With this administration?” The man laughs. “Actually, they already launched the first test – Mir-3. The Ark is the revision.”

 

Clarke frowns. “What happened to Mir-3?”

 

“It provided a lot of great data to make The Ark a success.” The man smiles. “That’s the motto of NASA. Don’t view it as a failure. View it as a stepping stone to make the next part a success.”

 

“I need to remember that.” Clarke responds. “Through here?”

 

“Yeah. You should be in luck, everyone working on that section just went to lunch. You should have it to yourself.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Making her way into the back room, she has to stop when she makes her way through the entrance.

 

It’s breathtaking.

 

For something made of metal, it’s beautiful. There are curves and different shines, all bolted together. There’s a flimsy piece of rope up around it, but Clarke can’t help herself. After taking a quick look around her shoulder, Clarke steps over the rope so she can get close to the piece of the Ark. “A way to save humanity,” she says to herself gently. “We ask so many times how to survive, maybe we should be asking ourselves if we should.”

 

A soft buzzing sound starts in her ears. Clarke isn’t sure what’s happening. She can hear a soft voice in the distance, like they’re calling to her. She can barely make it out, but the words are beautiful. Haunting.

 

It’s in a language she doesn’t understand, but it grows, the closer she gets to the Ark.

 

_“Yumi na teik, won sonraun au?”_

It’s a beautiful sound. She moves closer to the piece of metal. It resounds from inside the Ark, as if the Ark itself was coming alive.

 

_“Medo ste thonken, medo drein au.”_

 

Clarke searches for someone – anyone – to stop her from getting even closer. She stands before the metal beast, the words loud enough as if the person is singing them right next to her. Something stirs alive in her chest – the ache from war waning and a piece of her longing to reach out. She doesn’t understand it. Doesn’t understand the need to hear the words more, to touch the Ark, as if another life calls to her.

 

_“Oso kik raun, ogeda soulou.”_

 

Without giving it another ounce of thought, Clarke reaches out and puts her hands on the sleek metal. She thinks she hears someone scream, but before she can utter an apology, the world starts to spin and grow black. But not before she hears the gentle tickle of words in her ears:

 

_“Will you take a life with me?”_

 

***

 

When she comes round, the first thing she registers is the _noise_.

 

Everything is so loud that a part of her wonders if she’s back in the warzone and that the past few months have been nothing more than a cruel joke. When she sits up, leaves in her hair and her jeans streaked with mud, Clarke blinks.

 

She’s in the woods.

 

How she’s gotten to the woods, she doesn’t know. The trees are vast and loom over her as gunshot resound somewhere distantly. Scrambling to her feet, Clarke tries to get her bearings.

 

No, she’s not at the Smithsonian anymore. At least, she doesn’t think she is. She’s not with her platoon either because all she could remember before was the desert. Somehow she’s in a forest that she doesn’t recognize. She looks around for some sort of sign – some trail that she could use to find her way back. Clarke doesn’t even know the hiking around the D.C. area.

 

Sneaking as quietly as possible, Clarke tries to ignore the gunshots that ring around her. When someone moves from behind a tree, she freezes. He points a gun at her, taking a mask of his head. “Johnathan!” Clarke says, relieved. “Johnathan, what are we doing here? What happened?”

 

Except… the man doesn’t look like Johnathan.

 

Sure, his facial features are all but identical, but there’s a coldness in his eyes that isn’t present in her fiancé’s. He doesn’t lower his gun, taking a step toward her. “My name isn’t Johnathan,” he says and even that sounds like him – but doesn’t at the same time. “It’s Cage.”

 

“Johnathan, please stop whatever this is.” Clarke says, something resembling panic caught in her throat.

 

“Based on your clothing, I believe I found another one of the Sky People.” Cage states, moving even closer. “I would’ve thought that they wouldn’t let you guys wander by yourself anymore. But it must be my lucky day.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Clarke asks, her voice verging on terror. “I just want to go home—”

 

“So do my people.” Cage says, finally lowering the gun. “Which is why I’m very sorry to have to do this to you.”

 

Without any warning, the man sprints at her, tackling Clarke before she can even register what’s going on. He holds her by her wrists as she struggles. “Get off of me!” Clarke cries, managing to wrench her right arm out of his grasp and swinging upward so that she connects solidly with his jaw.

 

He makes a noise and loosens his grip long enough so that she can push him off of her. Clarke scrambles to her feet and moves to sprint away, but he grabs her ankle so that she collapses to the ground. “Not so fast,” he breathes, pulling her closer. “You are mine now. You’re going to make it so my people can be free.”

 

“Stop!” Clarke cries. He brings his gun out and places it close to her temple and she freezes. “Please,” she says, trying a different tactic. “What are you doing?”

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, girl.” Cage says, brushing the cool metal against her cheek. “You know exactly what I have to do. You will—”

 

“Get off of her!”

 

Before Clarke can isolate the source of the voice, a figure comes barreling out of the woods and launches himself at Cage. The two sprawl on the ground so that Clarke can get on her feet and move away. The man cocks his fist back and swings at Cage, causing him to cry out. But before he can grab the gun that Clarke notes is tucked in his pants, Cage swings out and shoves the man off of him. Fortunately, he doesn’t fall, merely stumbles and manages to get the gun.

 

Except Cage sprints away.

 

Clarke stands, back pressed against the back of a tree, breathing labored. She tries to get rid of all the fear that’s coursing through her, but can’t bring herself to move away from the man with the curly brown hair and gun in hand. “What the hell were you thinking, wandering off alone!” He shouts once he’s decided that Cage isn’t coming back. “You know you can’t just be in the woods alone with the Mountain Men out and about.” He turns and stalks toward where Clarke is, raising a hand in the air. “Wait, who the hell are—”

 

When he gets in swinging distance, Clarke raises her fist and strikes him as hard as she can. He stumbles backwards, clutching his face where she’s hit him. “Stay away from me!” She cries, starting to tremble.

 

“What the hell!” He exclaims. “I just saved your life!”

 

“Don’t come any closer!” Clarke exclaims, taking a few steps back. “I don’t care if you have a gun, I will hit you again!”

 

“Wait a second, who _are_ you?” The man asks. “Are you from another piece of the Ark?”

 

“The Ark?” Clarke asks, blinking. “How do you know about the Ark?”

 

The man sighs. “I knew there had to be more pieces and more people who survived. Don’t worry, my name is Bellamy. I can take you to the Council.”

 

“I will be doing no such thing!” Clarke yells. “I’m not going anywhere with you – I need to find a way home!”

 

“Your home is _this_ way,” Bellamy insists. “Are there more survivors from your side of the ship?”

 

“What are you talking about?” Clarke cries. “I just need to find—”

 

A round of gunshots cut her off and Bellamy doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around her and places a hand across her mouth and presses the two of them against a tree. Clarke fists her first instinct that he is _so close_ and then moves to the second: anger. Grabbing his hand and pulling it off her face, she hisses, “What the hell are you doing?”

 

“Shut up, the Mountain Men are here.” He whispers. Reaching to his back pocket, he pulls out a small handgun. “Do you know how to shoot?”

 

“Excuse you, I was in the Army for six years.”

 

“You were in the Guard?” Bellamy asks, blinking. “How do I not know you?”

 

Clarke isn’t sure how to respond to that. Fortunately, he doesn’t dwell because he places the gun in her hand. “Don’t be afraid to use it.”

 

“I just got back from war, I know the necessity of shooting when you have the shot.”

 

Bellamy makes another face, but doesn’t pry. He doesn’t move right away, either. He continues to press himself against her, peering around the base of the tree for whoever these Mountain Men are. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he breathes. “I’m going to draw them away and you run to the south. That’s where my camp is. Tell them that Bellamy sent you and they won’t shoot you. Maybe. I mean who knows, right?”

 

“Is that supposed to be comforting?”

 

“It’s all I can offer you right now, Princess.” Bellamy says with a smirk. “While you’re at it, ask them to give you more practical clothes.”

 

Clarke glances down at her skinny jeans and cardigan. “I didn’t think I’d be getting in the middle of another war today!”

 

“You didn’t?” Bellamy asks. “It’s my general state of being.” He cocks his gun. “Now run fast!”

 

With that, he sprints deep in to the woods and gunshots follow.

 

She wants to ignore his demand on principle, but seeing as 50% of the people she has met wanted to kill her and the other 50% instructed her to safety, she sprints to the south. There are people screaming and yelling, but she pushes herself further. “Where am I?” she asks herself as she sprints through the trees.

 

None of this makes sense. Sure, Bellamy had clothes she recognized from shows on television, shows about the end of the world and surviving a hostile planet. But the is absurd.

 

She stops when an absurd thought hits her. It trickles down her spine, chilling her like ice.

 

He _knew_ what the Ark was. Even more than that, he spoke as if he _lived_ on it.

 

“No,” Clarke says to herself. “That’s absurd. That is the most absurd thing anyone has ever thought.”

 

The gunshots slowly dwindle and she stops running, trying to take stock of her surroundings. “I can’t have gone to the future, that is absurd. That is scientifically impossible. I—”

 

“Hands where I can see them!”

 

Someone shouts something and Clarke raises her hands instantly. “B-Bellamy sent me!” Clarke shouts, unsure of what else to do.

 

“What did you say?”

 

“Bellamy sent me!” She repeats, setting the gun on the ground and keeping her hands up. “He told me to go to the south to camp!”

 

There’s some hushed words from somewhere in front of her. Clarke wonders if this is the moment she’s going to die. She spent her past year and a half in a war zone, and didn’t expect her trip to D.C. to be the thing that kills her. Clarke tells herself that everyone has a moment where they die. It’s true of all living creatures.

 

Except when a few people emerge from behind some trees, guns pointed at her, she marvels at how close in age they are to her – if not younger. She expected trained killers, but one of the kids is so lanky, it looks like the gun may make him topple over. “Who are you?” The lanky kid says.

 

“Clarke.” She replies her hands still up. “I-I’m—”

 

It’s when Clarke decides to take a chance. To take a chance on a theory that doesn’t make any sense, but one that she’s going to go for anyway. “I’m from one of the broken pieces of the Ark. Bellamy found me before someone named Cage to could take me.”

 

The lanky man brings his gun down instantly. “Why didn’t you say so?” He exclaims. “I’m Jasper – this is Monty and Murphy.”

 

The one named Monty brings his weapon down the moment Jasper does, but Murphy doesn’t. “How do we know she’s telling the truth? Anyone can just throw Bellamy’s name around, you know that he’s made a name for himself.”

 

“That’s true,” Jasper says, lifting his gun a little. “But how would she know the other stuff?”

 

“We literally fell from the _sky!_ ” Murphy exclaims. “Everyone knows that!”

 

Clarke tries not to react to any of this, but she can’t help but marvel. “Listen,” Clarke says, thinking of all the signs she read in the museum before touching the piece of the Ark. She pulls on every piece of information she can thinking of, before launching into, “If you don’t believe me, I grew up in the Ark, which was built to survive nuclear war after the world wasn’t habitable. I was a part of the Ark that was coming back down here, but it broke into pieces because it had so many curved surfaces and was worn in space.”

 

Jasper gives Murphy a ‘I told you’ look and even Murphy sighs and brings down his weapon. “I still don’t trust you,” he snaps.

 

Clarke eyes the gun. “The feeling’s mutual.”

 

“Oh, I like her.” Monty says, nudging Jasper’s arm.

 

“Why don’t we get you inside before—”

 

“Make way!” Someone shouts and another figure rushes by when someone limps out of the woods. Clarke startles when she sees Bellamy holding his arm, wincing in pain as he moves forward and gives the person who greeted him a faint smile. “Bellamy, are you alright?”

 

“Fine, just a scratch.”

 

“That doesn’t look like a scratch.”

 

“Shut up, Lincoln, or my sister is going to overreact.”

 

“Overreact to you hurting yourself? I would call that just ‘reacting.’”

 

“Shut up.” Bellamy turns his head. “Hey – glad you made it back safe.”

 

“I _told_ you, Murphy!”

 

“God, shut _up_ Jasper!”

 

“You didn’t,” Clarke says, not able to help the panic in her voice.

 

“I told you, this is just a scratch. I’ll be better in no time. I can ask my sister to try and set it.”

 

“Is your sister a medical professional?”

 

“My mom taught her how to sew.”

 

“Oh my god,” Clarke breathes. “Get out of my way, now.” She snaps at Murphy.

 

“Who do you think you are?”

 

“My name is Clarke, I already told you that, now move.” Clarke demands, pushing past him. “You – Monty,” she says. “Do you have any wrappings?”

 

“What?”

 

“Any gauze, any tape?”

 

Everyone looks at her as if she’s grown a second head. “Do you have anything?” Clarke asks, her words less harsh this time.

 

No one makes eye contact with her.

 

“Do you have alcohol?”

 

“That we do!” Jasper exclaims, rushing off.

 

“Of course, _that_ you have,” Clarke mutters under her breath.

 

When Bellamy sits on a chair in the middle of their camp, people flit around when they see him. “Bellamy!” A few people cry and run up to him, but Clarke puts her hands up.

 

“Please, I just need a little space.” She instructs.

 

“What’s the alcohol for?” Bellamy asks, his words tight. “I’m pretty sure my shoulder’s dislocated. No blood anywhere. If you knew me, you’d know how rare that is.”

 

“The alcohol’s for me,” Clarke jokes as Jasper runs up, a jar in hand. “For having to put up with all of you.”

 

“And here I thought I was being welcoming.”

 

Clarke chuckles, but hands the jar to Bellamy. He eyes it, so Clarke says, “Trust me. In a moment, you would’ve wished you had taken it when offered.”

 

Bellamy huffs a laugh, taking a deep pull and setting it down after wincing. “God, that is so awful.”

 

“Hey!” Jasper cries from somewhere in the crowd.

 

“I don’t think taste is what is the point of something like that.” Clarke laughs. “Are you fond of this shirt?”

 

“What?”

 

Without asking another questions, she tears it down the seam until it’s nothing more than a pile off to the side. “What the hell?” Bellamy cries.

 

“Would you rather me ask you to lift your hand over your head?” Clarke asks. When Bellamy scowls, she breathes, “I didn’t think so. God, it’s so dirty, I can’t even make a sling with it. It could infect all your cuts.”

 

“Been through worse.”

 

“That shouldn’t be a yardstick for poor life choices.” She snaps. Gazing around, everyone is completely filthy. “There’s nothing to wrap his arm with?”

 

Again she gets nothing.

 

“Aw shit,” she mutters to herself. Taking her cardigan off, she looks at her generic t-shirt underneath. It’s a nice blue, the kind of color that she thinks brings out her eyes. With a quick motion, she pulls it over her head. Clarke’s grateful she’s been so used to wearing sports bras under her uniform that she did so today, otherwise this would be even more uncomfortable than it already is.

 

“What are you doing?” Bellamy asks, recoiling.

 

“Setting your arm,” she says, rolling her shirt and setting it to the side. “Still not best case scenario, but it’ll have to do.” She runs her fingers down his shoulder until she pinpoints where it’s dislocated, placing her hand on his back. “So, your name is Bellamy?”

 

Bellamy’s still staring at her like he’s mildly frightened of her. “Uh,” he swallows. “Yes?”

 

“Interesting name,” she muses. “How long have you been on Earth?”

 

“I came with the first wave of people – the 100 delinquents they sent to see if it was livable.” He says, still not moving.

 

“I see, that’s why I didn’t know you,” Clarke lies, trying not to let his words affect her. “You know, my mom always said—”

 

With a quick motion, she snaps his bone back into place, hearing the snap when she finds it. He lets out a small yell, which quickly ends, leaving her to gently place his hand in front of him. “Sorry,” she whispers. “It’s always best when you don’t see it coming. I swear, it really does hurt less.”

 

“I’ll take your word for it.”

 

Taking her rolled up shirt, Clarke moves and wraps it around his shoulders, carefully cradling his arm in it. She practiced a lot of these in-the-field techniques in war. It’s one of her strong suits – adaptability. Tying the sleeves around his head, Clarke sits across from him on the bench. “There.” She says with a smile. “Now don’t move it or shoot or do anything stupid.”

 

“Bell? Not do anything stupid?” Someone says as they push through the crowd. They all but launch themselves at him, but Clarke is quick enough to place a hand out. The woman startles, there’s a flash of anger that crosses her face, then she looks at the sling. “Oh right, sorry. Bellamy, why are you such an idiot all the time?”

 

“I’m not an idiot, O, there were just Mountain Men.”

 

“Why were you in the woods by yourself in the first place?” The girl named ‘O’ asks. “You know we have to be in groups – it’s _your_ rule!”

 

Bellamy’s eyes flit in Clarke’s direction, who rushes out. “It’s my fault. He heard me getting attacked – I imagine he left his group then.”

 

It’s a bad lie, but it seems to work with most. Clarke places her hands over her bare stomach, the wind chill getting to her a bit. “I don’t mean to be high maintenance, but does someone have a shirt I can have?”

 

“Why? I’m enjoying the view.”

 

“Don’t be gross, Murphy.”

 

“What? I still don’t trust her, but she’s nice to look at.”

 

Clarke decides in that moment that she can’t be self-conscious. With a quick breath, she stands, moves over to Murphy, and places her hands on her hips. “Did you know that the feelings of fear and attraction are very close in the brain?” She asks. “Continue the way you’re going, and I’ll tell you exactly which way it’s going to tip.”

 

Murphy’s eyes narrow. Then he laughs – changing his entire demeanor. “Okay, I like you. I’ll take you to Raven, maybe she has an extra.”

 

Clarke allows herself to be led across the camp, small fires burning out and weapons leaning against tents. Casting a look behind her, she sees Bellamy’s watching her walk away with a curious expression on his face. Like she’s a puzzle he simply can’t figure out.

 

Clarke doesn’t want to know what will happen when he does.

 

***

 

Clarke finds herself by herself in front of a fire, her hands out in front of her as she tries to warm. She’s no stranger to uncomfortable situations, but this one is on a whole other level. In short: it’s _weird_. She can’t ignore the facts that are staring at her in the face: she is in the future.

 

Not only is she in the future, she’s in a future where NASA was right. Humans blew up the world and they needed the Ark to keep the species going. She isn’t sure how she got here, but she finds her chest aching. It’s been the first moment since she landed where she was able to really muse over what’s happening and her mind drifts to Johnathan. Is she gone from her time? Is he searching for her?

 

Her thoughts of him are clouded when Cage’s face hijacks it. She shivers when she remembers how it felt to have him on top of her, his face so close to hers.

 

They looked so similar.

 

Yet, were so different.

 

“You doing okay?”

 

Clarke gazes up to see Bellamy making his way over to where she is, a few things in his hands. He sits next to where she is, handing her a cup and a plate of food. “Thank you,” she says, bringing it to her lap. She moves to take a drink, but Bellamy cuts her off.

 

“Warning you, that’s moonshine. I didn’t want it to be too much of a surprise.”

 

Clarke chuckles. “Well, after the day I’ve had, I think I’ve earned a drink.”

 

“I agree. Maybe even more than one.” Bellamy laughs. He brings his own plate to his lap and eyes her. “You’re a mystery to me Clarke.”

 

“Am I now?”

 

“I don’t like mysteries. Not here, at least.” He continues. “Mysteries usually mean that someone’s about to die.”

 

The two settle in an uncomfortable silence after that.

 

“What do you want to know about me?” Clarke asks.

 

“I’ve asked all around and no one has heard of a Clarke. What’s even your last name?”

 

Clarke panics. She could offer her current last name, but it’s common enough to where there _might_ be someone with the last name _Griffin_ on the Ark. So she pivots. “What does it even matter?” Clarke asks, shutting her eyes. “I am a no one. I thought I was done fighting and here I am, still fighting.”

 

Bellamy makes an agreeing noise. “I suppose I get that.” He fiddles with the food on his plate. “Thank you, by the way.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“I never thanked you for setting my shoulder. Thank you.”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Are you a doctor or something?”

 

“Nurse.” Clarke says. “And I’m very familiar with triage.”

 

“I can tell. Granted I thought you were going to throw something at Jasper when he didn’t have any supplies.”

 

“I just can’t believe you’re in a _war_ with no supplies!”

 

“Ah, they don’t want to give them to us.” Bellamy mutters.

 

“What do you mean by that?”

 

“Well, as you know, we were the ones sent to the Ground to see if it was inhabitable. We are all expendable. But we actually did survive. And when the rest of you came back down, we wanted to stay in our own camp. In the dropship where we survived. But they don’t want to give us supplies unless we return to Arkadia.”

 

“So you’re simply living out here alone, without supplies? That’s idiotic.”

 

“Geez, tell me how you really feel.” Bellamy snorts, taking a swig of his drink. “We get supplies from some of the Grounders.”

 

“What’s going on?” Clarke asks tentatively. “I-I’ve been by myself for so long that I – I don’t know—”

 

Bellamy places a hand on hers. “You’re not alone anymore, Clarke.”

 

When he says that, something stirs in her chest.

 

She hates that it does, but it does.

 

She’s been telling herself she’s not alone. She has Johnathan – she has a life. But when she came back from war, she’s never felt more alone in her life. Like the rest of the world is behind glass and she’s merely watching.

 

When Clarke doesn’t respond, Bellamy launches into an explanation, but keeps his hand on hers. “You know the old expression ‘the enemy of my enemy is my friend?’ We were at war with the Grounders – people who survived all the nuclear blowout – only to find that the Mountain Men of Mount Weather have been kidnapping our people to gain a radiation resistance. They’ve been doing this to the Grounders for ages, but it turns out our blood is more susceptible because we were in space. Like, cure them entirely. So they’ve been after us ever since.”

 

“So when that man was saying he was going to take me—”

 

“He was going to harvest your bone marrow until you died.”

 

Clarke shivers and Bellamy squeezes her hand. “We’re doing our best to make sure that doesn’t happen to anyone.” He lets go, but it feels like he’s still holding it. Clarke shifts a bit away from him.

 

“I wonder if it would’ve been better for me to stay on my side of the world,” Clarke says jokingly, thinking of the NASA exhibit that felt like just moments before and also years away at the same time.

 

Bellamy lets out a laugh. “Who knows. You could’ve had a very successful life as a hermit.”

 

Clarke sets her food down, her appetite gone. She thinks of the Ark that she touched. If she could get back to it, perhaps she could go back to her world. “Do you need another soldier?” She asks, a plan formulating in her brain. “I have it on great authority that I have tremendous work ethic.”

 

“We have enough soldiers,” Bellamy laughs. “But we are in desperate need of a doctor.”

 

Clarke smiles. “Happens to be my specialty.”

 

Clarke returns to her food, setting herself. When they go after the kidnapped in Mount Weather, she will find her way back to the Ark.

 

Clarke will find her way back home.


	2. Say, Could That Lass Be I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness, I’m glad you guys are on the Outlander!AU train with me. I thought I’d be boarding it by myself…
> 
> As for the plot, it’ll kinda follow loosely the show’s plot, but very vaguely. This story is mostly its own thing, set in the 100 world. And it gets Dad Bellamy because it’s S2 (:P) and I’m keeping people alive that I want *coughWellscough* because I’m drunk with power and no one can stop me.
> 
> Let’s do this! <3

CHAPTER TWO

_Say, Could That Lass Be I?_

 

There’s a small part of Clarke that thinks when she wakes up, it’ll be nothing more than a dream. That she’ll turn over and accidentally wake up Johnathan next to her, using the fact that she woke him up to tell him about the crazy dream she just had. She would tell him about how the exhibit in the Smithsonian snuck into her dreams and she was in a world much crueler than she expected.

 

Except, of course, she doesn’t.

 

The ground is hard on her back and she finds herself waking up to a clear sky and branches of trees. “Did you sleep outside?” Someone asks, voice still rough with sleep.

 

Clarke sits up on her elbows to see Bellamy standing over her, frowning. “No, I slept in a tent and then thought it would be a fun prank to lie on the ground outside before anyone woke up.”

 

“I don’t know you well enough to know whether you’re kidding or not.” Bellamy says, throwing her a curious look.

 

“I slept outside.”

 

“Why would you do that?” Bellamy cries, offering her his hand, which she takes. She brushes herself off once she’s up on her feet, but he seems to not be done yelling at her. “It’s freezing out here in the cold, why didn’t you ask someone if you could sleep with them?”

 

Clarke fixes him a look. “Do you really think me asking if I can sleep with random strangers the first night I meet people is the impression I want to give?”

 

“You could’ve _frozen_ , Clarke. The Ground is cold – we barely stay warm enough as it is.”

 

“Okay!” Clarke exclaims, putting her hands up. “I will find a tent to share with someone today. Promise. Cross my heart, hope to die.”

 

“I hate that expression.” Bellamy snaps. “No hoping to die, okay? Especially not here. We have enough dying without people hoping for it.”

 

“You are really not a morning person, are you?”

 

“No, I’m not a ‘our doctor being an idiot’ person.”

 

Clarke tries to control her urge to snap back at him – what can she say, she’s easily provoked. “I already said I’d find a tent to sleep in, Bellamy. It is way too early in the morning to be yelled at.”

 

“That is not true, the morning is the perfect time to yell at people because they’re not coherent enough to defend themselves.”

 

Clarke stares. She wants to retort, but some sort of laugh gets lodged in her throat. It’s an odd sound, really. She tries to think of the last time she laughed – really _laughed_ – and is finding she can’t. She’s still trying to adjust being back home, but everything always felt a little off. Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation, perhaps it was her own mental stability breaking, but she finds this _funny._

 

“I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.” Bellamy snaps, crossing his arms. “You’re a _doctor_. You should know better.”

 

“Bellamy, it’s fine.” Clarke says, patting his shoulder. “I’m not a popsicle, I’m speaking in slow coherent sentences. How’s your shoulder?”

 

“Do not change the subject.”

 

“You’re the one who has pointed out several times that I’m a doctor. Then let me do doctor things. How’s the pain?” Clarke asks, tutting at the makeshift sling that’s now haphazardly wrapped around his neck. She moves closer to him, putting her hand on his arm and adjusting the sling a bit.

 

Bellamy stiffens. “You really aren’t one for personal space, are you?”

 

Clarke snorts. “After my past few years? What even is personal space?” He raises an eyebrow at that. Clarke remembers – she can’t talk about war. That war ended years ago. “On the Ark.” She says hastily. “Who had personal space there?”

 

Bellamy frowns, but fortunately doesn’t call her out on it. “Yeah, I guess. But you could warn a guy before getting up in my face.”

 

Clarke pulls away only to smile at him. “Where would the fun in that be?” She asks a little too cheerfully. He scowls at her, but seems perfectly content to let her manhandle his sling into something she deems supportive. “There. You need to make sure it doesn’t get loose. Your shoulder is healing—”

 

“My shoulder is _fine_.”

 

“It is certainly not fine. You dislocated it yesterday. And now you are at a higher risk of dislocating it again.”

 

“Am I really going to listen to you? The girl who slept outside?”

 

“You really need to get over that.”

 

“Fine.” Bellamy snaps. “But I’ll make you a deal. You keep all of us alive, and I’ll keep you alive. What do you say?”

 

Clarke stops tightening the knot on the sling and steps away. Gazing into his eyes, Clarke tries to ignore the stir of something deep in her chest – something she went to D.C. to find. “Deal.” She says with a soft smile. Moving past him before he can say anything else, she calls back, “I still think you’re getting the more difficult part of the deal.”

 

“I’m getting that.” Is the response.

 

Clarke can’t help but smirk to herself when she sees people rummaging around camp, handing each other rations. She smiles at the people she knows, nods at those she does, and steps to where Jasper and Monty are excitedly speaking with each other. “Clarke!” Jasper cries, waving her over. “How was your first night in camp?”

 

“It was peaceful until Bellamy started to yell at me.”

 

“Yeah, he does that.” Monty states, tossing a few berries in his mouth. “You learn to tune him out.”

 

Clarke chuckles to herself. “What if he’s saying something useful?”

 

Raven steps up, her ponytail flicking behind her shoulder. “We’ve yet to see that happen.”

 

“Don’t worry, we’ll make it an official holiday once he does.” Murphy says when he joins him. “The Day Bellamy Wasn’t an Idiot. It’ll be one for the books.”

 

“Are you guys talking about me? I heard my name.” Bellay calls from the other side of camp.

 

Jasper responds “Yes” at the same time Monty shouts “No” and everyone groans.

 

It reminds Clarke of her platoon and how close they used to be. How it made the horrors they saw a little gentler, how they supported each other when they didn’t know what else to do. Something in her chest aches when she watches them interact, riffing off each other, making fun of everyone from Bellamy to Murphy – although no one seems brave enough to say a single thing about Raven, even in jest.

 

“So Clarke,” Raven says, taking a few nuts out of Jasper’s hand. “You’re going to make sure we don’t die?”

 

“That’s the general goal.” Clarke laughs. “But if Bellamy’s any indication, I have a feeling you’ll make that hard for me.”

 

“Who doesn’t like a challenge?” Jasper asks with this mouth full.

 

“Yeah, you’ll be seeing a lot of him.” Raven says. “I’ll show you in the dropship so you can see what sort of supplies we have. And I may have some stuff you can use in a pinch. Unfortunately you’ll have to be a little creative.”

 

“Good thing I love being a little creative. Lead the way,” Clarke smiles, following the woman inside the metal dropship.

 

It’s clear it’s been lived in for a while. There are beds propped up everywhere, hammocks tucked in the corner where there’s a few people still sleeping. In the back is a small table with a few jars of moonshine and even fewer bandages. Raven catches Clarke’s expression and sighs. “Yeah, it’s not much. Apparently the landing was rough and everyone got a bit banged up. And it’s been nothing but fighting since, so supplies went down.”

 

“What do you mean, apparently?” Clarke asks. “You weren’t with them?”

 

“Nah, I hijacked a rocket and landed it myself. I’m a badass, in case you haven’t reached that conclusion yourself.”

 

“I am reaching it now.” Clarke says, a little in awe. “Now I know who to go to in an emergency.”

 

“Everyone does.” Raven says with a grin. “What do you need to get all set up?”

 

“Honestly, I don’t even know where to start – there’s nothing to work with. I mean, it would be helpful if I could try to find some herbs and plants that I could make some ointments and salves with, but I wouldn’t even know where to start. If there was paper, I could probably draw them for reference.”

 

“And an artist to boot? You are an interesting one, Clarke.” Raven says, an edge in her voice. Clarke knows that her story has holes in it, and every time she speaks with someone, those holes grow bigger. Instead of admitting fault, she waits for Raven to call her out on it. Instead, she says, “I think I know someone who might have something.” Her words grow cold, the reason, Clarke isn’t sure. “I can get you what you need. You’ll just have to pair up with someone before going outside the wall. Bellamy’s rule. Which – as you know – he breaks all the time.”

 

Clarke winces. “Was I that bad of a liar?”

 

“Please,” Raven rolls her eyes. “Even if you were the most effective liar in the world, no one would’ve believed you. He’s been pulling that shit for weeks. I don’t think he’s sleeping much – too worried about when Mt. Weather’s going to strike next.”

 

“I get that,” Clarke say softly. “Being in charge isn’t easy.”

 

“No, it isn’t.” Raven returns, words growing soft. “I’m glad you’re here, then. Maybe it’ll take off some of the load on him, knowing there’s someone who can stitch everyone up when it goes to hell.”

 

“Probably not.”

 

“Probably not.” Raven agrees. “I’ll go get you that stuff. And I think I may have a first aid kit in the wreckage of my rocket. I’ll look for that too.”

 

Raven turns to leave, but before she does, squeezes Clarke’s arm. It’s such a friendly gesture, Clarke sucks in a breath.

 

All she wants to do is go home. She wants to go back to her time, back to her fiancé, back to her life.

 

But she’s getting to know these people and there’s a part of her that aches at the thought of leaving them in a war. She would never leave her platoon behind.

 

“Dammit, Clarke,” Clarke breathes, shaking her head. “These are _not_ your people. This is _not_ your war.”

 

She reminds herself that again and again as she organizes what little supplies she has. But she can’t help the voice in the back of her mind that reminds her that it’s her job to save lives. She took an oath to heal. And would leaving these people in the midst of a war be breaking that oath?

 

At some point in the day, someone drops off a notebook and some pencils, and Clarke does her best to try and remember what certain flora look like. It’s calling on all the past classes in Biology she took – classes she once called ‘useless’ and ‘primitive.’ And now here she is, trying to remember specifically what certain plants look like so a bunch of people from the future can live.

 

When she does everything she can think of, she emerges from the Dropship and searches until she finds Bellamy, who is currently teaching a group of younger kids how to properly hold their weapons. Something aches in her chest when she sees it – the youth already hardened by war. There were so many eighteen-year-olds who ended up on her table that made the world seem a little dimmer, blood splattered on their faces while they fought someone else’s vanity battle.

 

“Hey, Bellamy!” She calls, telling herself she can’t go down that path again. He looks up at the call and nods her over. “I need to find some plants so there can be some semblance of medicine here. God knows what we’ll do if there’s any attack whatsoever.” She hands him all her drawings, which he startles at, flipping through the pages. “Do you know anyone who might have seen these before and could point me in the right direction?”

 

Bellamy frowns at this. “I don’t love the idea of you wandering around out there—”

 

“I won’t be wandering,” Clarke says with a huff. “I’ll be searching for life-saving herbs so we don’t all die of infection.”

 

“If you’re going to be logical, I can’t have you in camp.”

 

“That solves my problem of sneaking outside the wall to get what I want.”

 

She goes for light, but it’s clear that’s a subject Bellamy does not take lightly. Clarke wonders if she may have actually ruined her chance to garner his permission to leave the grounds – honestly, if she wasn’t trying to join the next mission to the mountain, she’d simply go herself – but then Bellamy calls out, “Wells!”

 

A tall man lifts his head, broad-shouldered and built, at the name. “Yeah?”

 

“How do you fancy a hike with our new friend?”

 

He smiles warmly, lighting up his entire face. Clarke can’t help but almost immediately feel comfortable with him, smiling back when he reaches her. “A hike?”

 

Clarke grabs the sketches out of Bellamy’s hands. “Have you seen these plants before? I’d like to stock up, if possible.”

 

Wells examines the drawings. “I think so. These are really good, but some plants look really similar—”

 

“If you’re going to have this conversation, I’m going to go back to what I’m doing.”

 

Wells rolls his eyes. “For some reason plants don’t interest Bellamy.”

 

“The fact that you find them interesting will always be astounding to me.”

 

“We literally lived in a metal box with _one_ plant.”

 

“And now we’re surrounded by many!” Bellamy exclaims. “You guys have your nature moment somewhere else. It’s annoying.”

 

Clarke turns to Wells. “It’s like a big hug.”

 

“Isn’t it though?” He laughs. “Let me get my bag, and we’ll head out?”

 

“Sounds great.”

 

Clarke shoulders her own and tucks her drawings in her pocket. Bellamy moves to turn back to the kids, then hesitates. “Be safe out there, alright?” Bellamy says quickly. “Mt. Weather has been harvesting bone marrow so they actually have foot soldiers on the ground. And they have gas masks and other ways to move about without getting radiation sickness. Just stay alert.”

 

“Bellamy, it’s going to be fine. Plus, this is the kind of stuff I trained for. I know when a territory is hostile.”

 

“Yeah, remind me to ask you more about that. I still don’t understand how we’ve never met.”

 

For someone so smart, Clarke really can be an idiot. She curses herself at the accidental admission, giving him nothing more than a smile in return.

 

When Wells joins her, Clarke welcomes the distraction to get out of the camp. She isn’t sure what it _is_ about Bellamy that makes her lose her sharpness, but she finds herself letting her guard down. And in this current situation? She needs to be as alert as possible. Clarke reminds herself not for the first time to get attached. She simply needs to get back to her section of the Ark and return to her time. Everything else is inconsequential.

 

“You’ve caused quite a stir,” Wells comments when she doesn’t say anything during the first part of their trip.

 

“Have I?”

 

“It’s strange, you fit right in. It’s like you’ve belonged with us all along.”

 

Clarke stiffens, trying to figure out how best to navigate a conversation that seems to be laden with mines. “Why wouldn’t I?”

 

“I mean, not everyone decided to stay at the Dropship. A lot of people moved in with Arkadia. They’re families are there and it’s scary to be a bunch of kids.”

 

“Wars take the innocence away. If you were fighting before the adults came down, I doubt anyone in that camp is a child anymore.”

 

“Oorah.” Wells says quietly to himself.

 

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Clarke asks, startling. She’s heard that many times before, but never expected she would hear it here.

 

“What?”

 

“What did you just say?”

 

“Hoorah?” Wells asks, frowning.

 

The two have a silent moment that Clarke doesn’t understand. Wells presses forward, but doesn’t wait for her to catch up. Instead, he shoulders his bag and moves forward, leaving Clarke to stare at where he once was. “Oorah,” she says to herself.

 

The walk from that point on is a little uncomfortable, but she isn’t entirely sure why. Clarke’s convinced herself that she heard him entirely wrong, but he seems content to move in silence. After a while, she doesn’t mind it. Wells is good company not to be speaking with. It evolves into something that she would almost describe as companionable.

 

“I think the first one is over there.” Wells says, point to a field of low-growing white flowers.

 

“Yes!” Clarke exclaims. “This is perfect, thank you!”

 

Wells doesn’t seem quite as excited, but laughs when she runs over and pulls a knife out of her bag and starts cutting. “How did you survive on your own?” He asks as she works, tucking the flowers in her bag.

 

“I’m sorry?”  


“I mean, we’ve been on the ground for a while now. And you clearly aren’t from Arkadia. How did you survive on your own?”

 

Clarke tries not to react. “I mean, you do what you need to survive. You get into a new situation, you adapt, and you overcome. It’s what anyone would do.”

 

“Definitely _not_ what anyone would do. Did you take Earth Skills or something?”

 

Clarke really doesn’t like where this is going. But, she’s so far in her lying, that she doesn’t know what else to do. “Yes – I find survival skills really fascinating.”

 

“You know, we would’ve been in the same—”

 

There’s a call in the distance.

 

Clarke startles, knife in hand, standing up in a flash. Even Wells unholsters his weapon, his eyes darting around the clearing with a trained eye that only experience could give. He holds it low, searching the area. Clarke can’t find anything either, frustrated that she’s armed with nothing more than a knife she was using to cut weeds only minutes ago.

 

“Maybe it was the wind,” Wells says, but it’s clear in his voice that he doesn’t believe it.

 

“Maybe,” Clarke answers, but she continues to search.

 

She continues to search until a group of figures emerge from the trees, swing at them, and then everything goes black.

 

***

 

When Clarke wakes, everything hurts. It takes a few attempts to open her eyes, the light blinding and painful as her head reminds her that harming it is never a good idea. It throbs and aches, the side of her head feeling sticky in a familiar way that she knows means there’s blood everywhere. When the word focuses around her, she searches for Wells before taking anything else in. It doesn’t take long. He’s a very solid presence next to her, eyes shut and head lolled so that it’s resting on her shoulder.

 

They’re sitting on the ground of a house.

 

Surprisingly, she realizes her hands aren’t tied and brings them up to her forehead, wincing when her fingers brush against the open cut. Her fingers are sticky with blood when she looks at them, blinking a few more times to stop everything from turning. Stupidly, she moves to stand, but a figure steps in front of her, brandishing a long blade in front of her.

 

They don’t say anything. They merely place the blade under her neck to remind her that they could do whatever they want. Clarke presses her back against a wall when they brandish the sword at her. Clarke sees her pack and supplies on a counter, rummaged through, the white flowers nothing more than crumbled petals on the floor.

 

Wells groans next to her, lifting his head off her shoulder. “What the hell happened?” He mutters, dazedly taking in the scene around her. “Holy—”

 

“It’s okay, Wells.” Clarke says quietly, squeezing his hand.

 

There’s a loud slam and the two of them flinch. Someone swings the door open, a body in their arms, lying them on a table in the middle of the room. Clarke sucks in a breath when she sees a small child lying still, blood dripping down her arm.

 

The group of intimidating figures have a conversation in a language she doesn’t understand, gesturing at the small girl on the table. Blood is dripping down her fingers, but Clarke can hear the faint breath. Each one more labored than the next. Clarke listens intently to the rattling.

 

She’s heard that noise before.

 

“Shit,” Wells mutters under his breath as he turns toward the window. “The sun’s going down.”

 

“So?”

 

“So?” Wells mutters. “Bellamy’s going to freak that we’re not back by now. Everyone has to be behind the wall before sundown.”

 

“Bellamy is the _least_ of our worries right now.” Clarke hisses, eyeing the looming Grounders who continue to turn toward their direction.

 

“You can say that because you’ve only known him for 24-hours.” Wells snaps. “If the Grounders don’t kill us, he will.”

 

“That is a tomorrow problem.” Clarke says when they shoot them a nasty glare.

 

“You say that like there is a tomorrow.”

 

“I have no intention of this being my last day on earth.”

 

“I’m afraid you may not have a lot of say in the matter.”

 

“Are you sure I don’t?” Clarke utters, shifting her weight on her hands.

 

She has to act fast.

 

Hoisting herself on her onto her feet, she sprints over to the table to where the child lies. Grabbing a tube off of the instrument table they’ve set next to her, Clarke stabs it into her chest, hoping her aim is as good as it once was.

 

The reaction is instantaneous.

 

The blade is under her throat, piercing her skin before she can even check that she’s hit the right thing. Wells leaps to his feet as well and yells something, but Clarke thinks there may be a couple of swords in his path as well because he stifles a cry.

 

Clarke swallows against the blade, which is being pressed harder against her throat until she feels the sharp piercing against her neck. “I needed to help her breathe.” Clarke says carefully, both hands up. “She had a collapsed lung, she was going to die if I didn’t reinflate it.”

 

The sword presses harder.

 

_“Pleni.”_

 

The word is hard, cold, and demanding. The sword doesn’t leave her throat, but it rests there, stinging against her cut.

 

A woman moves in front of the guard with his sword, eyes lethal and movements calculated. “Please,” Clarke states. “I just need to make sure she is alright.”

 

“You must be confident if you acted without examination.”

 

“I heard it in her breathing,” Clarke pleads. “She was going to stop breathing if I didn’t do anything. And I wasn’t sure—”

 

“You did not think to ask?” The woman asks. “You did not think to ask before you assaulted my second?”

 

“I did not assault her. Listen to her breathing – it’s getting stronger. I need to examine her to see if there are other injuries that need attending. I just… reacted. I was afraid she might die.”

 

“And you thought if you could save her, we might let you go?”

 

“Why are we here anyway?” Wells says behind her. “We have a treaty! We are allies against Mt. Weather!”

 

“The enemy of my enemy may be my friend,” the woman states carefully. “But is still my enemy. Our treaty will not wash away the countless bodies that were ended by your hands.”

 

“You were at war with _us!”_

 

“It doesn’t matter!” Clarke exclaims over them. “I cannot raise the dead of those lost. But I can save this one person. If you let me. Please.”

 

The woman eyes Clarke curiously. “You’re bold.”

 

“I’ve been told it’s a short-coming.”

 

“That’s what people say who fear fire. Everyone knows fire must be respected, otherwise it will burn you alive.”

 

The sword remains there until the woman nods. “Proceed. But know that your lives count on a successful outcome.”

 

As soon as the sword is removed from her throat, Clarke gets to work. As much as the sting of the slice is in the back of her mind, Clarke moves toward the child, her hands ghosting down her body. “What happened to her?”

 

No one answers at first. She looks up when there’s shuffling, finally one of guards saying, “There was an explosion.”

 

“Mt. Weather?” Clarke asks.

 

“We’re not sure. It could be Mt. Weather… could’ve been the Sky People.”

 

Clarke hesitates. The woman catches her eye. “As you know, war is messy. The lines get blurred. Our friend often becomes our enemy.”

 

Clare returns her attention to the girl. “I can’t focus on that now. All I can do is focus on this one person. We save who we can save today. And tomorrow we try again.”

 

No one interrupts her moving forward. Fortunately, reinflating the lung was the majority of the battle. Clarke breathes easily once she realizes she somehow managed to hit the right spot without damaging anything else, which is a bit of a surprise, seeing as she all but did it blind. One she cleans out the nastier-looking scrapes and bandages her with the supplies they have, Clarke begins to settle a bit. When she’s confident the girl is stable, she sets the bandages to the side and takes a breath.

 

She knows that it isn’t good for her. To see the faces of the young. Yet, here she sees them and knows that she’ll add the face of this small girl to those who haunt her dreams.

 

“You did well,” the woman states, moving next to her. “I suppose you two will keep your lives today.”

 

Clarke sighs, hanging her head. “Probably in your best interest anyways,” She says. “If Arkadia found out you broke your end of the treaty, I doubt you’d ever see your people in the mouth of Mt. Weather again.”

 

The woman lifts an eyebrow. She clearly doesn’t take Clarke’s words as a threat because a smile curls on her lips. “I will remember you.”

 

“Clarke.” She supplies when the woman pauses.

 

“Clarke kom Skaikru.” The woman nods. “Anya kom Trikru. I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

 

“Under better circumstance, I hope.”

 

“I doubt it.”

 

Honestly, Clarke does too. But she takes the forearm of the woman and gives her guards a handful of instructions to help keep infection setting in. When the two are shown the door, Wells seems like he’s torn between yelling at everyone and thanking them, which she understands. But Clarke wants to get as far away from this cabin as possible, closer to the Dropship where she’s starting to understand Bellamy’s strict rules

 

Evening has settled around and the two stumble in the dark forest as they try to make their way home. They walk in a stunned silence for a while, Wells finally breaking it. “What were you thinking, Clarke?”

 

It isn’t the reaction she expects.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“Why would you ever go after the girl, that was absolutely insane!”

 

“Wells, she was going to die if I didn’t do anything.”

 

“Any other circumstance, _we_ were going to die! You’re lucky she didn’t—”

 

“It has nothing to do with luck, Wells!” Clarke snaps. “She is not the first child I’ve treated in a war setting and I’m certain she will not be my last.” Wells snaps his mouth shut at that, but she can tell something is brewing under his eyes that she doesn’t like. But Clarke is so fired up, she can’t bring herself to stop. “And I learned that you have to listen to your instincts. Because if you hesitate, people die. If I had waited, if I had tried to reason first, she would’ve _died_.”

 

“You risked _our_ lives!”

 

“Everyday is a risk!” Clarke cries, unable to stop tears from welling in her eyes. She’s grateful it’s dark and there’s nothing more than the moonlight to give her away. “Which is why it’s also a gift. And if I’m given a choice between saving a life or letting someone die, I will save them. I’m sorry I put us in danger, but it was the right thing to do.”

 

Wells doesn’t say anything for a moment, but he stops walking. He stares at Clarke in that intent way he’d been doing all day, the way that makes Clarke feel safe and vulnerable all at the same time.

 

“Aw hell,” he breathes, and then moves forward and pulls her into a hug.

 

Clarke isn’t sure what to do. Actually, she can’t think of the last time she was hugged like this. Tightly and fiercely, like the person was afraid of losing her. After a few beats, Clarke brings her hands up and wraps them around his back, squeezing back. When Wells pulls apart, he keeps his hands on her shoulders. “That scared me.”

 

“Me too,” Clarke admits. “I didn’t think we’d make it out.”

 

“Me neither. I thought we were going to be the catalyst of a three-way war.”

 

Clarke huffs a laugh. “Who knows. Bellamy might think we deserve it for being out past dark.”

 

Wells groans. “We have to still deal with Bellamy.”

 

“Come on.”

 

“He’s going to kill me.”

 

“Me too.”

 

“No, you’re new, he’s still being kinda polite. He’s going to actually murder me.”

 

“I’ll protect you.”

 

Clarke says it playfully, but there’s more weight behind it than she means. Wells smiles at her, wraps an arm around her shoulder, and pulls her in. “I believe that.”

 

***

 

When the two finally make it back into camp, the dull noise of tension becomes an uproar.

 

“Oh my god – they’re back! Wells and Clarke are back!” Someone shouts as they open the gate.

 

People flood the entrance when they make their way through. It’s then when Clarke realizes a handful of truths: One, she doesn’t have her backpack. All the flowers, all the sketches, are gone. Two, the two of them look like they’ve been killed and brought back to life. Wells has blood drying on his chin and Clarke knows she has caked flecks on her face and down her neck. Three, Wells wasn’t exaggerating.

 

Bellamy stalks through the clearing, eyes alit with something Clarke guesses is worry hidden by complete, undying rage. “Where the hell have you been?” He shouts as he stomps toward them. “What the hell happened?”

 

That’s when Clarke realizes her fourth truth: she has a horrible headache.

 

“We, uh, had an incident.” Wells replied, wincing, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

“What kind of incident?” Bellamy snaps, reaching the two of them. His eyes widen when he takes both of them in, a small moment where his anger melts and all he must see is the blood stained on their faces. The moment leaves. “What happened?” He demands again.

 

“Grounders ambushed—”

 

“We’re in a _treaty!_ ” He bellows. “That is grounds to forfeit—”

 

“Enough!” Clarke snaps, putting her hands up. “We aren’t going to get anywhere if we start a second war against our allies. It all worked out, we’re fine, and we can move forward!”

 

“Fine?” Bellamy repeats. “Have you looked at yourself? Because I think you and I have different definitions of ‘fine!’ Just like you think sleeping out in the cold is the best plan!”

 

“Okay, you need to calm down, like, five _thousand_ notches.” Clarke retorts back. She is vaguely aware that Wells has stopped even trying to interject and the group that’s formed around them has taken a few steps back. All she can see is Bellamy, and _feel_ the anger rolling off of him. “We are _fine_. Everything worked out. And you need to stop yelling.”

 

“I don’t think you know this, Princess, but you’re not in charge.”

 

“Listen,” Clarke states, stepping up to him and jabbing a finger in his chest. He startles at this, recoiling slightly, only to regroup. “I saved one of them and we’re fine. In fact, it may have been for the best. We’re back now, we’re alive and we’re safe, so I’m going to call this a good day.”

 

Jasper peeks his head through the crowd. “Seriously, Bellamy—”

 

“Was I talking to you?” He snaps.

 

“Okay, you’re in one of _those_ moods.”

 

Bellamy clenches his jaw. When an awkward silence settles on the group, he seethes, “So, have you found a place to sleep tonight?”

 

Of all the things that Clarke thought Bellamy would throw at her, this was _not_ it. “Uh,” she barely manages, not able to form a response quick enough. She was ready for anger. She was ready for threats. She was not ready for this nonsequitor. “I haven’t had a ton of—”

 

“Come with me.” Bellamy barks, turning around and stalking away. “Everyone – back at your posts and tents!”

 

Clarke throws a look at Wells. Wells puts his hands up. “Don’t look at me. I’m just happy I’ve survived two near death experiences today.”

 

“You’re not helping.”

 

“No, not in this instance. Ask me again tomorrow when I’ve regained feeling in my feet.”

 

Clarke can’t help but sigh, but there’s no heat. She follows Bellamy solely because he seems so upset regarding the whole matter, and she really just wants to go to sleep.

 

When Clarke follows him to a tent, he holds the flap open for her. There are some blankets sprawled around, but she recognizes the torn shirt he had on yesterday. “Oh, I don’t know—”

 

“It’s either this or hypothermia.” Bellamy grumbles, bending his neck under his sling and setting it aside. He carefully pulls off his shirt and Clarke has to look away.

 

It feels… wrong.

 

She has a whole life. It’s becoming harder and harder for her to remind herself of it, though. She’s been in this world for two days and her own is starting to blur around the edges. Wells had a point. She slotted in with everyone, as if she belonged here all along. Clarke was spending her days, wondering where she fit and here she suddenly… fit.

 

Clarke reminds herself that she can’t think this way.

 

When Clarke pulls a blanket that Bellamy tosses her way up her waist, she pulls off her own shirt and pours some water over it. Scrubbing her cheek, Clarke winces at the pull against her skin as she does so. She continues in this fashion for a while, until she feels an intense gaze on her.

 

Peering up, Clarke sees Bellamy sitting upright, arms crossed. He’s still frowning as she cleans the blood off of her face, but the heat has mellowed.

 

“We’re okay, Bellamy.” Clarke states, because she feels like she needs to.

 

He doesn’t react in the same aggressive way he did outside. Instead, he looks down at his hands. “I know,” he says quietly.

 

It feels like this is a sanctuary.

 

A soft space, where the prying ears of those around him couldn’t reach. When his age caught up and revealed that he was nothing more than a boy thrown into leadership.

 

“We’ve lost so many,” Bellamy continues, still not looking at her. “It was my job to keep them safe. It was my job to protect their lives. And they all died.”

 

“Look at how many are left.” Clarke says, bringing her shirt down. “You can’t turn to face ghosts, Bellamy. You’ll never be able to live.”

 

Bellamy gives a hollow laugh. “You speak as if you know.”

 

She does.

 

“They love you.” She decides on. “You inspire them. They all stayed here because of you. You do keep them safe. You do protect them.”

 

Bellamy looks up, his eyes more vulnerable than she’s ever seen.

 

“You are doing great. But you can’t be everywhere all at once. Today was a fluke. It wasn’t provoked, it wasn’t anything anyone could’ve guessed. And Wells and I made it back. So we’re okay.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes narrow. He stands up from his makeshift bed and moves over to where she’s sitting. Glancing down at the damp shirt in her hands, he asks, “May I?”

 

Clarke finds herself saying yes. He reaches down and takes it, gently bringing it up to her forehead. It stings, but it’s better than her trying to do it herself. It’s a methodical process, but he slowly wipes away the blood that has dried against her skin.

 

She leans in closer to him, unable to stop herself. He’s so close and so warm, she can’t break away. When he scrubs the last spot of dried blood off her shoulder, he says quietly, “There.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

He nods, but he doesn’t leave right away. Instead he tilts down toward her, like pausing to ask a question.

 

A part of her wants him to.

 

Oh god, she _wants_.

 

When he pulls away, she doesn’t know if she’s disappointed or relieved. He doesn’t turn to face her, he doesn’t acknowledge any of it. Instead, he pulls his own blanket up and blows out the fire, the only source of light left in the tent.

 

In the veil of dark, Clarke curses herself. Pulling her blanket closer, she reminds herself of the objective: find the Ark and go home.

 

Several minutes pass and she expects Bellamy to be asleep, his breathing low and deep. Then she hears his voice. Quiet, as if the words aren’t actually meant for her.

 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That one got away from me too!
> 
> This is way too fun to write, I’m not gonna lie. I know there are some parallels to S1, but honestly they’re unintentional. I really wanted Anya and Clarke together – and Wells to be in the mix
> 
> And foreshadowing galore! Those who’ve seen Outlander can probably guess what character Wells is roughly falling into place with. And overprotective!Bellamy? Headstrong!Clarke? YES PLEASE.
> 
> They’re sorta falling into their roles from the show, because they can’t help who they are! And Bellamy is kinda relieved there’s someone else there, even though he only says it when he thinks she’s asleep. Also yes, Clarke is dealing with coming back from war herself, which wasn’t really a component in Outlander, but you know me, can’t help working through trauma.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! <3 <3 <3


	3. Merry a Soul She Sailed on a Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! I hope you had a good week!
> 
> Apparently the usual thing is happening: I start a new fic and I can’t stop writing it. I can’t help myself when I’m super into an idea! I’m currently listening to the Outlander soundtrack and getting into the mood…
> 
> And everyone in this fic is going to be LOOSELY based off of characters in Outlander, but I have no plans to change anyone’s drastic personality to fit a mold that’s been set in Outlander. I am planning on hitting a few specific plot points from the Outlander season, but like I’ve said before, if you haven’t seen the show, it’s really not a big deal.
> 
> One minor adjustment I’ve made as you can probably tell is that I’ve given Clarke some things to work through from her own war, making the drop into this one all the more difficult. 
> 
> And you know how in every fic, there’s one major canon thing that you ignore in order to the story forward? Our mains are all in the 20s. So let’s just say a bunch of criminals – not just kids – were sent to the ground.
> 
> Let’s do this!

CHAPTER THREE

_Merry a Soul She Sailed on a Day_

 

Her dreams are filled with gunfire and her morning is clouded with the smoke of bombs

 

It’s something Clarke is used to, but not something she knows how to stop. When she wakes up in a cold sweat, there’s no longer the faceless figures of those trying to kill her unit anymore. There’s a face: and it’s her fiance’s. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to erase the face of the cold-hearted version of her fiancé. A part of her is still hoping that this is a dream.

 

Though, even if it was, she would have a hard time shaking the thoughts rolling around in her mind right now. The image of her fiancé over her, hands on her wrists as struggled underneath him. The image of the dying child on the table, blood dripping down their palm as no one did anything.

 

Pulling the blanket off, Clarke stands. Bellamy’s still asleep a few feet away, his face soft than she’s ever seen it. When he sleeps, all the edges and walls are brought down. It occurs to her how young he is. Even in war oversees, all her Commanding Officers were well in their lives, brought up through trial and experience. The man before her can’t be more than twenty-six, surrounded by children and young adults who expected him to keep them alive.

 

It reminds Clarke of all the teenagers on her table, pleading with her to save their lives. That they weren’t done with the world. But that’s the issue with war. It takes, and takes, and takes.

 

Quietly emerging from the tent, Clarke is greeted with silence. Sure there are a few people at their posts on the wall, but no one else is awake. She uses this time to wander around, surveying the edge of the walls and the structure that should be keeping them safe.

 

She settles on a log that’s next to a dying fire, rubbing her eyes and watching the embers slowly reduce into nothing more than charcoal. “Here.” Someone says, handing her a cup.

 

Clarke gazes up to see Monty with one in his hand. “Uh, I think it’s a little too early for moonshine.”

 

Monty chuckles. “It absolutely is. It’s coffee. We found some plants a few weeks ago and have been saving them for special occasions. You look like you’ve been hit by a bus.”

 

“That bad?”

 

“Don’t get me wrong, you look very dangerous. But Bellamy’s gonna be even more annoyed.”

 

“Then I absolutely need this,” Clarke says, taking a sip of the coffee. It’s bitter and sharp and the most wonderful thing she’s had in three days. “Though, when is Bellamy _not_ annoyed?”

 

“Very rarely. I gotta go – my shift on watch is happening now. If I don’t let Dax go, he’s going to swing at me. See you later!”

 

Monty bounds away, leaving Clarke back with her thoughts and a cup of coffee. She feels a pang of protectiveness over him, as she’s done with all the people in the camp. A part of her wonders, even if she could find the broken piece of the Ark that transported her here, would she be able to touch it? Would she be able to return to her own time, knowing that these people were here and most likely going to die without some sort of medical help?

 

Hanging her head, she swirls the coffee in her cup. “Not your time,” she reminds herself for what feels like the millionth time. It’s is _not_ your time—”

 

“Early riser?”

 

She doesn’t even need to look up to know who’s talking to her. When she does, Bellamy frowns at her, which means Monty was right: she looks awful. She has a headache to go along with it, so she would personally like to thank the Grounders who knocked her out for all the trouble they’ve caused. “You could say that,” Clarke responds, thinking of all the nightmares that kept her from a full night’s sleep for so long.

 

“You didn’t have to get up early if you didn’t want to,” Bellamy offers, joining her on the log she’s sitting on. “No one’s dying.”

 

Clarke can’t help but laugh at that. “That’s a relief.”

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

“Like someone took a bat to my head.”

 

“At least take comfort in that it wasn’t a bat. It was probably a mace.”

 

The corners of her mouth twitch up at that. “I’ve never felt more comfortable in my life.”

 

“I’m told I have that affect.” Bellamy smirks, eyeing the cup in her hand. “Wow, Monty shared his coffee stash with you? He must like you, I think he’s only given me two cups in the past month that he’s found it.”

 

“I’m very likeable.”

 

“Tell that to the Grounders who put a mace to your face.”

 

“Touché.” She chuckles.

 

The two sit there for a while. Every so often, Bellamy peers up when someone else emerges from a tent and eyes anyone who does something a little more reckless and loud than necessary. But he doesn’t yell or say anything about it. Instead, there’s a small smile on the corners of his mouth as he watches people get up and go to work. When he turns back to Clarke, there’s something in his expression that clearly says that he doesn’t want to leave, but knows that he has to.

 

“So I was thinking last night that you still need herbs and other plants to make your treatments. And I really don’t want to send you out there with just one person anymore.”

 

“Really, is this how it’s going to be now?” Clarke cries exasperatedly. “We have one minor incident—”

 

“Let’s recap.” Bellamy cuts her off, clearly annoyed. “Day one of you being here: you almost were taken by Cage to be harvested for bone marrow. Day two: you were attacked by Grounders and only survived because you saved one of their own. It is now Day Three, and I don’t know about you, but I’d like to break the cycle.”

 

When he puts it like that, he does have a point.

 

“So I was thinking that myself, you, and a few others can go out. How badly did you scare Wells – would he join?”

 

“If you threaten him, he will do whatever you want. He is very intimidated by you.”

 

Bellamy gets way too much joy out of that. “Alright, I’ll glare at him. Probably grab Monty – his parents were in the Agriculture part of the Ark and he was arrested for growing weed, so I think he’d be helpful.”

 

“In more ways than one.”

 

“Don’t encourage him.” He groans and Clarke can’t help but giggle at that. “Jasper should come too because, well, they’re a set. And Murphy. He may be a dick, but he’s a good shot.”

 

“Why do I feel like the damsel in distress with a bunch of men coming to protect me?”

 

“Trust me, we are all aware this is for our benefit. You’re useless to us if you can’t actually fix us.”

 

“Oh, good to know you won’t toss me out in the cold.”

 

“I said you were beneficial, not indispensable.” He snorts, but it’s said with such a joking tone, she rolls her eyes. But then he sobers when he faces the wall to the outside of the Ground.

 

“You alright?”

 

Bellamy shakes his head, snapping out of whatever worry he’s in. “Of course.” He responds far too quickly to ever be taken as truth.

 

Clarke follows his gaze to where a handful of young kids are gathering. She can feel the nerves rolling off of him. In a quiet voice, she says, “ _Be strong, saith my heart. I am a soldier. I have seen worse sights than this.”_

 

Bellamy blinks. “Did you… did you just quote the Odyssey at me?”

 

Clarke can’t help but break out in a smile at that. “You know the Odyssey that well?”

 

But Bellamy doesn’t respond to that. Instead he continues to stare, like he isn’t sure what to say. The two stay like that. Clarke holds her breath, not wanting to break whatever moment they’ve fallen into.

 

“Bellamy! You said you wanted to talk to me?”

 

Clarke flinches at that as Bellamy takes a step back. He turns to face whoever spoke to them, his expression wiped clear of whatever was there a moment before. Clarke doesn’t like the way her heart has ratcheted up or how her hands have gotten sweaty. Clarke peers at them, blinking.

 

Her ring is gone.

 

She doesn’t know when she lost it. It was nothing more than a gold band, wrapped around her ring finger from the night the two of them got back from war and he proposed. Clarke was so happy to see him again, there was no other answer. She thought they’d slot back into the place they were before they were sent into a war zone, but the cold truth was – they didn’t.

 

War carved them into different shapes.

 

“We’re going on a road trip!” Jasper jumps next to Clarke and wraps an arm around her shoulder. “I’m gonna tell Monty – he’ll be so pumped. He hates watch. Now I can go tell Dax to shove it and to go back to his post. This is the best day!”

 

Clarke isn’t sure what happened, but Jasper’s nearly vibrating with excitement so she doesn’t care. He bounds away to where Monty is, all but screaming up at him. “Hey! Monty! Get your ass down here!”

 

“I’m on watch!”

 

“Bellamy’s orders! We’re going on a field trip!”

 

“Hell yeah! Field trip!”

 

“I’ve made a grave mistake.” Bellamy mutters.

 

Clarke laughs at him, places a hand on his shoulder, before moving away. He stares at it, the soft gesture, like he isn’t quite sure what to do. When her fingers fall off of his shoulders, he keeps his gaze there for a beat before moving across camp to where Wells’ tent is. Clarke tries to ignore how her fingertips tingle and her heart picks up pace, telling herself it’s nothing more than the adrenaline from this entire situation.

 

“You two bang it out? Bellamy’s in a good mood.”

 

Clarke’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?” She cries when Raven bounds her way.

 

Raven isn’t even a little sorry. “You guys shared a tent last night, right? And you had this whole hot, ‘I hate you right now’ energy going on. We all assumed you’d either kill each other or have really terrific angry sex. Which would make all our lives infinitely easier. Because when we first got here, Bellamy was getting laid regularly and was much more relaxed. Ever since he started pouring all his time into keeping everyone alive, he’s been wound tight. Sex can help with that.”

 

“I cannot believe we’re having this conversation.”

 

“You can’t?” Raven asks. “Haven’t you realized none of us have any sort of privacy?”

 

“Oh my god, I need to get a new pack since Grounders stole mine yesterday.”

 

“Don’t be like that, it’s an honest question!” Raven laughs, jogging after her. “I think it’d be good for both of you. You’re very jumpy and serious, he’s super tense and angry – plus, you are both very attractive. I think all of this is a positive situation.”

 

“Okay, I can’t believe I have to say this, but please don’t whore me out to get your own leader to chill.”

 

“You can’t believe it, but it’s happening.” Raven laughs. “Listen, I’ve never seen him connected with someone like that so quickly. And you weren’t here last night when you and Wells didn’t come back. You got the conclusion, but you didn’t see everything leading up to that. Bellamy was about to send half the camp out to find you guys. He was full on panicking – yelling at people, screaming at me to make more bullets. All you got was the relief turned into anger.”

 

Clarke sighs. “I know it wasn’t a great scenario, but he would panic if anyone was outside the wall when they shouldn’t.”

 

“It’s different than that,” Raven sighs. “You know how he has a sister?”

 

“Octavia? The girl who I thought was going to punch me when I body checked her from Bellamy?”

 

“Yeah, that’s the one. You know how weird it is to have someone who are _siblings_.”

 

“I do?”

 

Raven recoils. “What?”

 

“What?”

 

“Clarke’s probably confused because she didn’t even know they were related.” Wells says, stepping up to the two of them. He throws Clarke a warning look as he does so, which fortunately Raven doesn’t seem to notice. “I mean, how did you miss all the big deal about finding _siblings?_ You clearly were doing some sort of secret work on the Ark seeing as you were so out of the loop.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Raven says, narrowing her eyes. Clarke curses herself as Raven is clearly going through a list of potential reasons for what just happened. “You do seem weirdly not in touch with Ark culture.”

 

“She was telling me about it yesterday – apparently her family worked for some top secret part of the guard who knew so many private things, they all but kept her in isolation. Isolation! For knowing to much. Crazy, right?”

 

“That does sound like the Ark.”

 

Clarke isn’t sure why Wells is lying for her. In fact, she isn’t sure of a lot of things that are happening in this moment. So she does what she always does when she feels backed against a wall: she stays quiet.

 

“Ready, guys?” Jasper cries from the edge of camp. “Field trip time!”

 

“Stop calling it that, it’s a serious, life-threatening mission.” Bellamy grumbles.

 

“Field trip, field trip!” Jasper and Monty chant.

 

“What if I just shoot them?” Murphy asks from Bellamy’s side.

 

“That seems extreme.”

 

Clarke lets out a shaky laugh, throwing Wells a look. “We better not hold them up, lest Murphy becomes a murderer.”

 

Raven snorts. “Too late for that.” If she means it as a joke, it falters, but she waves them off anyway. “Be safe, no more Grounder kidnapping.”

 

Clarke throws up her hands. “Everyone’s acting as if I wanted that to happen.”

 

“You’re gonna have to deal that everyone’s going to be making fun of you for that for a while.” Wells offers.

 

“And Bellamy?”

 

“Yeah, that’ll be an actual grudge.”

 

“Lovely.” Clarke says with a sigh.

 

As she moves to leave camp, she goes against every instinct she has and shoots a glance back at where Raven is. Raven’s still standing there, staring. The two share a long look, and something resembling fear creeps up in Clarke’s stomach.

 

She leaves camp, Raven’s gaze still burned upon her.

 

***

 

The good thing is this: Bellamy is relatively strict about noise when out in the woods, which means she can’t have a ton of prying questions directed her way. Sure, Jasper and Monty still spoke, but it was a quiet twitter that helped calm her down.

 

The bad thing is this: Bellamy is relatively strict about noise when out in the woods, which means she has time to overthink everything she’s said and wonder if she just doomed herself with Raven. Every once and a while, she tries to catch Wells eye, but he’s decidedly not looking at her. Instead, he stays close to Jasper and Monty, like some sort of net in case they go too far.

 

Bellamy’s a few paces head as well, leaving her with Murphy by her side. He makes her nervous, but not in a way like he’s going to hurt her. In a way that he’s so suspicious and blunt, he will call her out on it if he thinks she’s lying.

 

Murphy holds his gun against his chest. “You’ve been allowed to go outside the wall twice in the two days you’ve been here. Must be nice.”

 

Clarke isn’t sure how to respond to that. So she doesn’t say anything at all.

 

“You can unclench, I’m not trying to bust your balls or anything.” When Clarke lifts an eyebrow, he groans. “Or ovaries or whatever. Sure, I didn’t trust you when you first got here, but we’re well past that.”

 

“It’s been two days.”

 

“A lot can happen in two days.”

 

Clarke supposes he’s right.

 

“Listen, do I fully trust you? No. Do you I think you’re hiding something? You obviously are.” Murphy continues. Clarke stiffens at this, but he doesn’t even pause. “But we all have secrets, so I get it. And you don’t know us as much as we don’t know you. And on the off chance you will have to make a choice to save my life or not one day, I am choosing to be nice to you.”

 

“Wow, my cup runneth over.”

 

“It should, I’m amazing.” Murphy preens. “But that doesn’t mean that I will not call you one your bullshit. Everyone needs a bullshit-o-meter in their life. I like to provide this service to the best of my ability.”

 

“Right back at you.”

 

“Wow, excuse you for thinking that I ever would need someone to do that. I fully embrace whenever I’m back on my bullshit. It is a gift that I offer to everyone around me.”

 

Clarke laughs and Murphy joins her, earning the two a glare from Bellamy in the front. Murphy throws her a look, which she returns, shouldering her bag. The two continue to walk in the back, keeping up with everyone, but hanging back far enough to talk quietly without any interruptions.

 

The day passes relatively uneventfully, Wells explaining where he’s seen the flora before and Bellamy navigating them to where it is. It isn’t until the sun starts to settle behind the trees does Bellamy make a face. “We’re a lot further out than I meant to go,” he says quietly. “We won’t be able to make it back in time.”

 

Wells frowns. “We can camp out here for the night. Raven knows what to do to keep everyone calm. And you did tell Lincoln that we may not make it back in a day, so they won’t do anything rash.”

 

Bellamy sucks in a breath, but nods.

 

Murphy lifts an eyebrow at Clarke, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, everyone starts to unravel their packs as Jasper and Monty find wood for a fire. Clarke takes off her backpack, now stuffed with plants and other things she’s found, setting it off to the side as the group huddles around the fire.

 

She thinks of all the time they did this overseas, knowing that any wrong step could means something tragic for them. Seating herself on the ground, Clarke takes the ration Bellamy hands to her as he sits down where she is. She fiddles with it, finding herself not terribly hungry. Clarke wonders absently if she’s at all close to the Ark piece that she desperately wants to get back to. She knows wandering in the woods would be an astronomically bad idea, especially with all of the different groups that would be thrilled to kill her.

 

So instead she wonders again how she’s going to leave these people.

 

“Stay sharp,” Bellamy says once everyone’s around the fire. “Well need lookouts. Monty, why don’t you start since your post got derailed.” Monty doesn’t even complain or make a joke. There’s something about the way the fire hits Bellamy’s face that makes it so everyone knows they need to follow the plan. Even Jasper.

 

When Monty goes to his perch, Bellamy mutters, “Not a word.” To her.

 

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” Clarke says honestly. “It’s dangerous out here, it’s a good plan.”

 

Bellamy nods, his eyes lost in the fire. Clarke looks to Wells and Murphy who just shake their heads at her. But when she doesn’t let up, Murphy nudges Jasper and Wells. “Let’s see if there’s a stream nearby to fill our water bottles.”

 

Clarke mouths ‘thank you’ as they leave. Murphy flips her off, but she thinks it’s a gesture of love. When they leave, Bellamy sighs, “I can’t have anyone else captured by Mt. Weather.” He says in a low voice once they’re gone.

 

“Anyone else?” She asks, startled.

 

Bellamy looks around to see whether any of the other men are around. When he’s content, he leans forward and lifts his shirt. Marks line his back where stitches must’ve once been. Clarke ghosts her hand down his back, feeling where the scars are starting to form. He shivers at her gentle touch. She can’t help but be mesmerized by the lines and horrified all the same. When she lets go, he brings his shirt back down.

 

“I was taken when we first got to the Ground. We were at war with the Grounders, everyone was scared, and I let my guard down. All I wanted was to not be a part of the Ark’s plan anymore. I thought we deserved some freedom. We were sent here like lab rats to die. I let me guard down.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes are distant in the fire.

 

“They got ten of us. I fought…” he trails off, squeezing his eyes shut. “I fought _so_ hard to get us all out. Only I managed to escape. They had killed everyone else.”

 

It’s Clarke’s turn to shut her eyes.

 

“And I know it’s annoying and I know that I may be harsh when it comes to this stuff, but… I don’t know what else to do. I’m doing my best to keep everyone else alive.”

 

Clarke takes a breath. Without thinking too much of the implication of it, she reaches out and grabs his hand. Squeezing it tightly, she says softly, “I know what it feels like to be alone in the world. To feel like everything’s happening around you and you’re trying your best to make everything fit. But I’m going to say to you what you said to me when I first got here. You are not alone.”

 

Bellamy squeezes her hand back. “It’s a nice thought. But I have to keep everyone alive.”

 

“I thought that was my job.” Clarke says, smiling slightly. He opens an eye and catches her, and huffs. “Don’t try to steal my thing.”

 

“Clarke—”

 

“I’ve got this too. You don’t have to hold it alone, Atlas.”

 

Bellamy takes his hand out of hers to run it down his face. “You _need_ to stop quoting Greek mythology at me.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because he’s a big fuckin’ nerd.” Murphy says, arms full of canteens. “We found a stream a little ways away. We can fill up again in the morning.”

 

“Shut up, Murphy.” Bellamy mutters, but there’s no heat. If anything, he looks a little relieved at the interruption.

 

The two don’t say anything for the rest of the night.

 

***

 

Clarke wakes up to a crash.

 

She shoots straight up when she sees people sprinting through the forest at her, scrambling to her feet to do something – anything – to protect herself. Everyone else is having the same realization as she is – Bellamy all but trips to his feet while Wells steps back. The screaming is loud and Clarke can hear the gunshots of war around her, just like she had only months ago.

 

“What is happening?” Murphy exclaims, jolted away and on his feet.

 

“Mountain Men!” Bellamy shouts, just as the first one comes fully into view.

 

He looks like a Grounder, but there’s something about the way he moves and the way he has no discernment of the people in front of him that scares Clarke. Like he isn’t there. He’s nothing more than a warrior without a compass.

 

Wells fires off a shot before anyone else. His arms go up and they’re straight, concise like the form of a trained soldier. Clarke flinches at that – for someone who lived in a metal box, his ability to adapt on the Ground is more than she would ever expect. Bellamy manages a few rounds before more come over the hill.

 

Rummaging in her bag, Clarke pulls out the small handgun Bellamy gave her when they first met and aims. She hits one of the attackers square in the shoulder and Bellamy balks. “Nice shot,” he calls.

 

“Again, with the surprise?” Clarke snaps.

 

Except when another wave comes sprinting down the hill, she catches Bellamy’s eye. The same thought seems to hit them at the same time. “Run!” He shouts.

 

Clarke snatches her bag before they move, sprinting through the forest. Everyone spreads out as they sprint, the footsteps of the Mountain Men thundering behind them. Clarke can hear her breath get more and more panicked as she pushes herself faster than she’s ever needed to go.

 

Wells and Bellamy lead the way with Murphy not far behind. “What about Jasper?” Monty cries, a few paces behind. “I haven’t seen him!”

 

It’s as if someone pours ice water down her back.

 

The pieces are falling together.

 

Jasper was on watch last before the Mountain Men attacked.

  
The thought must strike Monty too, because he whirls around and sprints toward their camp, maneuvering around where the Mountain Men are charging. “Monty!” Bellamy bellows, but it’s no use.

 

Clarke looks at Bellamy. She can see it in his expression when she decides to do what she’s going to do. “Clarke—” is the warning, but she doesn’t wait to hear the rest.

 

Whirling around, Clarke sprints after Monty, doing her best to dodge where the Mountain Men are striking. It takes a well-placed jump and the fact that she’s small to avoid someone swinging at her head.

 

“Clarke!”

 

At Monty’s voice, she turns to see him over a slumped figure. Sprinting up to where he is, she freezes.

 

Jasper is leaning against a tree, his lips white and eyes distant. She can see him whispering something to Monty, blood speckling his lips. “Oh my god,”

 

“What do we do?” Monty cries, frantic. “Do we bring him back to camp? Do we do something here?”

 

“We can’t move him!” Clarke exclaims, but is cut off when she hears more shouting. “But we can’t stay here!”

 

“Are you suggesting we leave him?” Monty shouts, words filled with betrayal.

 

“Of course not!” Clarke exclaims. “We have to—”

 

The choice is made for her when more attackers round the horizon. “We have to move him to a safe space. You grab one arm, I’ll get the other.”

 

Monty nods vigorously and does as instructed. The moment they lift him up, Jasper lets out a noise that Clarke knows will haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. “I’m so sorry,” she finds herself saying as Jasper cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

 

They move through the forest, stumbling their way through. With a shriek, one of the Mountain Men jumps from nowhere, swinging a sword close to Clarke. The only way to avoid it is to let Jasper go and duck, causing Monty to fall with him to the ground. Clarke scrambles for her gun, but can’t get it aimed before the man swings again, slicing against her side. She lets out a cry and clasps a hand on her side, but manages to stay on her feet.

 

Bringing the gun up, she aims it at the man’s face. “I don’t want to shoot you!” She cries. There’s a part of her that _knows_. That knows this man is under some sort of drug – some sort of brainwashing. His gaze is empty and his body moves as if on autopilot. “Please!”

 

There’s more shouting and more Mountain Men move toward them. Clarke can’t decide where to aim, they surround them all. “Monty, take Jasper and go!” She exclaims.

 

“I can’t carry him by myself!” He groans. “And I’m not leaving you!”

 

Tears well in her eyes as they get closer. She’s beginning to feel numbness spread down her leg, blood staining her jeans. “ _You_ need to run!”

 

“Like hell I will!”

 

The Mountain Men surround them, but don’t attack. They form a circle – a barrier – a wall of people that locks them in their tomb.

 

“Don’t do anything hasty.” Someone says and Clarke stills.

 

She knows that voice.

 

Or rather, she knew that voice years and years ago.

 

When Cage pushes his way through the Mountain Men, he smirks at Clarke. “I knew you and I would meet again.”

 

She aims her gun at him, a tear sliding down her cheek.

 

She could shoot him. Even if they were dead immediately afterwards, they’re dead now. Chop off the head of the snake and kill the body. The gun trembles in her hand.

 

Johnathan.

 

It’s _not_ him. It’s _not_ her fiancé. She tells herself this again and again, as Cage moves closer. “Are you going to shoot me?” He asks, his voice amused.

 

“Let us go!” Clarke shouts, but even then her words shake.

 

“I don’t think you can do it.” Cage says coolly. Clarke’s eyes water as she peers at her fiancé, surrounded by soldiers. “You can’t shoot me.”

 

He’s right.

 

She can’t.

 

She knows logically it isn't her fiance. The logical part of her knows that. But her heart refuses to let her pull the trigger.

 

She lowers the gun, right before someone comes up behind her back and wrenches her hands behind her.

 

***

 

When Clarke wakes up this time, it’s cold.

 

Not cold like the ground is, the feel of the dirt and the wind all around her. The feel of freedom.

 

It’d cold and oppressive, hurting her chest as she lifts her head. Then she hits it. Rubbing the back of her head, she stretches her arms and they hit metal too.

 

Clarke is in a cage.

 

Wrapping her hands around the bars, Clarke manages to get on her elbows. She’s in different clothes now, wrapped in white. It takes a while to get her bearings, but when she does, it takes her breath away.

 

People in cages are all around her. They’re stacked on top of each other, slamming their hands against the bars so the locks rattle. It’s loud and overwhelming, causing Clarke to shrink back.

 

“Monty?” She cries, her voice wavering. “Jasper?”

 

She tries to call out to her friends, but they don’t respond.

 

The only answer is the cries of those locked like animals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Now we’re getting to the meat of the story!
> 
> And yes, the Bellamy back scene was a parallel to Jamie. I’m really excited to keep doing little nods, but I do want them to remain themselves. And honestly overprotective!Bellamy is my favorite thing in the world to write, I’ve decided. 
> 
> And Bellamy is going to be LOSING IT A LITTLE (a LOT) now that everyone’s separated… and more people are calling Clarke out on her story filled with holes!!! (Also, it wasn’t that Bellamy, Wells, and Murphy didn’t WANT to help get Jasper, it’s just they were otherwise indisposed… as you will see next chapter! Which is when I start jumping back and forth on POV, similarly to what I did with The Price of Peace.)
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed loves! <3 <3 <3


	4. Over the Sea to Skye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry it’s been such a long time since I’ve posted. It’s been so crazy and I’ve been super overwhelmed with life and just haven’t been able to get myself to write. This is the first day I’ve sat in front of my laptop, actually.
> 
> That said, I’m excited to dive write in! Let’s bake this bread! <3

CHAPTER FOUR

_Over the Sea to Skye_

 

Bellamy runs.

 

He runs, even though he hears Wells and Murphy’s calls behind his should, desperately trying to catch up. He runs so hard that he knows his legs are straining, but he can’t feel them. He can’t even hear his breath, even though he knows he’s barely able to catch it. He runs until he’s forced to stop: by that of a Mountain Man.

 

The man takes his pike and swings directly at Bellamy’s head, Bellamy switching directions with just enough time to feel the burst of wind around his temple. Sprawling on the ground, Bellamy scrambles to get to his feet, but there isn’t enough time. Fortunately Murphy sprints into the area, takes a shot, and the Mountain Man crumbles to the ground. “Think before you fucking run!” Murphy shouts, running over there.

 

Except there are more footsteps. Bellamy gets to his feet, shoulders his gun and aims it at the noise. “Eyes sharp,” he says when Wells joins them. “Weapons hot.”

 

“Weapons dead more like it,” Murphy grumbles, but he prepares all the same.

 

Bellamy has given a lot of thought of death. When he first got to the Ground, when he was in Cage’s clutches. Every day seemed like it could be his last. But hey, he’s still breathin’, isn’t he? So he’s still fighting.

 

Then, for the first time in his short life, he gets a break.

 

A siren resounds over the hills and all the Mountain Men stop. Their weapons fall to their sides and they turn toward the noise. Without even a glance at the three of them, they turn around and sprint away.

 

They’re left in the clearing, their guns still cocked and aimed. “What the fuck,” Murphy breathes when they run away.

 

“Be grateful idiot,” Wells mutters, all but deflating. “We most certainly would’ve died.”

 

“Maybe you would have, but I’m impossible to kill.”

 

“Spoken like a true cockroach.”

 

“You’re not even close to the first person to say that to me, you ain’t special.”

 

“Shut up you two!” Bellamy all but growls, finally lowering his gun after a few seconds when it seems like the danger is gone. “We have to find the others.”

 

Wells at least has the decency to look sheepish – Murphy, of course, endlessly unapologetic. “They’ll probably be where Jasper was on watch. That’s where I would’ve gone.”

 

He says probably, but Bellamy can hear it in his voice. _They won’t be there_.

 

Bellamy shakes his head. _No._ He has to see it. He isn’t going to give up on their being alive until he sees their bodies with his own two eyes. He isn’t going to think that the Mountain Men grabbed them until he can’t find them. Bellamy is going to find a resolution or he’s going to die trying to find it.

 

The three of them make their way back to the camp they had set up, torn remnants of their stuff strewn about. He even sees Clarke’s backpack, somehow surviving the tear, all the herbs and flowers they’d collected still in there. Wells follows his gaze to the backpack, but doesn’t say anything. Maybe there’s nothing to say. The camp was a clear sign of what once was here. And worse, what happened.

 

Bellamy doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand how this random girl -  girl shrouded with mystery and questions – has been able to get under his skin so effectively. Clarke feels like she doesn’t belong here in some ways, but like she should’ve been here all along in others. The past few days, he’s felt like he can breathe a little easier, ask for a little help, and maybe survive this.

 

How did lodge herself in his life in such a short amount of time?

 

Bellamy isn’t one for fate. He doesn’t believe that he was destined to be in charge of the 100, and he doesn’t believe he was destined to have the pretty lives he read in silly books. But every once and a while someone comes along and he questions this. He wonders about the Greek tragedies. Everything ended in such disarray, but they had pockets of happiness.

 

Fate.

 

“Over here!”

 

Bellamy’s torn out of his musings at Wells, who is standing at a tree, his expression grim. Bellamy doesn’t rush over to him. He knows.

 

When Bellamy and Murphy join him, Bellamy sucks in a breath. Blood cakes the tree, dripping down the bark. “Jasper,” Murphy breathes.

 

“That’s where he was taking post.” Wells says, his words tight.

 

Bellamy clenches his jaw. He’s doing his best to keep it together, but he can feel panic rising in his chest, chipping away at his resolve. Wells casts him a look, which he doesn’t care for, but continues, “Look, the blood goes up here. Someone was trying to get him away, which means he’s probably still alive. I would bet money that Clarke and Monty were doing their best to get him out of here. They weren’t going to leave him behind.”

 

Without waiting for whatever retort Bellamy could manage, Wells moves. “The blood trail continues this way.”

 

Wells moves quickly through the forest. While he and Wells didn’t get off to the greatest start – Wells has a very strict moral code and is not afraid to voice it – he’s glad he has a man like Wells to work with. He knows more about Ground survival more than anyone he ever met, that is, before Clarke showed up. Wells knows how to work on an unfamiliar terrain, and silently. He never asked how or why, but the same sort of confusion he felt with Clarke would appear every once and a while.

 

“Oh,”

 

When Wells drifts off, Bellamy knows it’s the final nail in the coffin. He can almost hear it as if it’s a physical sound, calling for the end of hope.

 

Wells stands before a patch of grass, bent and bloody. There was clearly a struggle, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened. Bellamy swallows as he makes his way over to where there’s blood staining the grass and he blinks a few times, hoping the tears will remain far enough away from him to not cause any issues.

 

Something glints in the grass that catches his attention. Bellamy moves to where it is, seeing a metal watch among the disarray. Bending down, he grabs it, frowning at the broken screen. “Whose is this?” He asks, his voice much lower than it usually is, so he clears it.

 

“Clarke’s.” Wells says with a certainty that makes something stir in his chest that he doesn’t care for. Wells must catch on, because he says, “When we were together yesterday, I saw her wearing it.”

 

Flipping it over, there’s a small etching on the other side. _J.G._ It just makes Bellamy realize that there is so much they don’t know about this woman. Holding it in his hands, he uses his thumb to brush away the blood drops that he wishes he could pretend not to see.

 

“They have them.”

 

When he says the words out loud, it’s much more painful than he thought it’d be.

 

Jasper, Monty, Clarke.

 

He had them here. Right _here._ It was his job to protect them. It was his job to protect all of them.

 

And he failed.

 

“Well, at least we know Jasper will be okay.” Murphy says to the side.

 

Bellamy all but rounds on him, something snapping inside. “You wanna run that by my again Murphy?”

 

“Dude, chill the fuck out.” Murphy says, not even polite enough to flinch in fear. “I mean that Mt. Weather won’t let him die and we know they have crazy medical services. The silver lining here is that they will heal Jasper.”

 

“So they can harvest his bone marrow!”

 

“Yes, I am aware, but at least it buys us time for a plan!” Murphy shoots back. “We have _time_ , they’re not lining them up to shoot them in the head, they’re not doing that crazy ‘death by a thousand cuts’ bullshit, they’re holding them prisoner in a medical facility. How long until the first person died when you were in there?”

 

Bellamy recoils.

 

No one talks to him about that. Not even Raven. No one has ever built up the courage to do so, but here Murphy was, spitting it out. Honestly, he takes the first few seconds after the surprise has worn off, considering whether or not to take a swing at him. When that passes (as it usually does with Murphy), he really looks at Murphy.

 

He’s standing like he normally does, with a ‘who gives a fuck’ attitude around him. But his eyes give him away.

 

Murphy’s _scared_.

 

It’s the only thing that saves him from Bellamy’s fist in the long run. “A week.” Bellamy mutters out, his voice low.

 

“So we have a week.” Murphy says. “We need to get back to camp as soon as possible and figure something out. Okay? Okay.”

 

Wells makes a face. “He’s not wrong,” he mutters.

 

“See?” Murphy cries, gesturing wildly in Wells’ direction. “That you! Write that on my fucking tombstone.”

 

Bellamy shoulders his weapon. “I’m not convinced you can die, Murphy.”

 

“You’re right, I’m a god.”

 

It takes them half the time to get back to camp than it did to get there. When the three of them enter the gates, he hears the excitement from inside the camp, the casual _‘they’re back!’_ calls from every corner. It makes the pit of his stomach drop when the gate opens and everyone comes rushing in.

 

 _Everyone_.

 

Octavia sprints to where Bellamy is, wrapping her arms around his neck before moving to Wells and Murphy. Her grin falters. “W-Where’s Jasper?” She asks, peering around their shoulders. “Did you really walk faster than him to prove you can? Where’s Monty? Clarke?”

 

Bellamy can’t bring himself to say anything. Raven is rushing to where they are as fast as she can. He sees Murphy’s gaze flit down to her leg as it always does when she limps to where he is, a flash of guilt running across his face before returning to normal. “Blake! I see you made it back in one piece. But, you seem to be missing—”

 

“Raven.” Wells says softly. He shakes his head slightly, and her eyes widen.

 

“They were taken by Mt. Weather.”

 

The reaction was instantaneous. It’s as if all joy is taken out of the surrounding area. Octavia flinches back from him like he’s done something to her and he _feels_ that in his bones. “We have to get them back.” He says, grateful that no one mentions how his voice cracks. “We have to—”

 

“Dude, we can’t do this by ourselves.”

 

Bellamy whirls around to see Murphy, sporting a head injury that he can’t remember, blood seeping down his temple. “What?” He shouts.

 

“Bellamy, we thought we lost _you_ when Mt. Weather got you!” Murphy snaps. “And we couldn’t get you out!”

 

“Murphy—”

 

“Bellamy, he’s right.” Octavia states, stepping toward him and placing a hand on his arm. “We can’t do this on our own. We need help.”

 

“No.” Bellamy states. “We can figure it out, we can get them back and—”

 

“Bellamy, stop it.” Raven snaps. “We need help, we can’t risk it to chance. We need to go to Arkadia.”

 

Bellamy sucks in a breath. Everything he tried to avoid, everything he wanted to be, he failed. They were right in his hands. They were right there. _She_ was right there.

 

Shaking his head, he tries to remove the thought from his head. It’s been too quick. He can’t be thinking this way. He can’t be _feeling_ this way.

 

“Bellamy, you know that I will always tell it to you straight.” Raven says softer, the only one brave enough to move as close as Octavia. “We need help if we’re going to get them back. We can’t risk it on our own. I know it sucks. No one wants to go back there more than me. I don’t want to ask any of those sons of bitches for anything. But it’s Monty. It’s Jasper. It’s…” She casts a look at Octavia, who Bellamy doesn’t want to even see what expression she’s making. “Clarke. We can’t lose them. We need all the help we can get.”

 

Bellamy feels his hands grip the gun at his side. Looking down at the ground, Bellamy shuts his eyes.

 

They were _right. There._

 

“Okay,” he says, his voice low. “We’ll do it. We’ll go to Arkadia.”

 

***

 

Clarke is telling herself not to freak out.

 

It’s easier said then done. She’s surrounded by bars and there’s nothing she can do to not touch them. Wrapping her fingers around the bars, she tries to find Monty. Or perhaps even Jasper. Anything. Sucking in a breath, she peers around her. There are people crouched in balls in their cage, eyes empty and on edge.

 

“Be quiet,” someone says to her left and Clarke startles.

 

There’s a figure pressed against the bars next to her, the woman bent and twisted in a shape that looks neither comfortable nor healthy. “What?”

 

“If you make too much noise, they’ll take you first.”

 

Clarke scrubs under her eyes where she finds tears, unable to hide them.

 

“Take me?”

 

The woman’s eyes narrow. “You’re one of the Sky People, aren’t you?”

 

Clarke almost refutes it without thinking. “Y-Yeah,” she stammers over her lie, shaking her head. “I’m from the sky.”

 

The woman shakes her head. “You’re in for a tough final part of your life.” The woman states. “I do not wish to hear you scream.”

 

Clarke tries to tamp down the fear she feels at the cold words, but nothing she does can do so. There was always a voice in the back of her mind that knew this could happen. She just survived a war and people went missing all the time. But with Bellamy’s words and the fear that Mt. Weather struck with everyone in the camp, she couldn’t help but wonder if she would die hundreds of years after she was supposed to.

 

Her mind wanders to Jonathan.

 

He’s been a source of comfort for her through so many trials, but his face is growing more and more distant as she spends time here, replaced with nothing more than the cold face who captured her.

 

There’s a clanging deep in the hallway, tearing Clarke form her thoughts. “Stay small,” the woman next to her ushers. “They’re already going to come for you since you’re of the sky. Stay small, don’t draw attention.”

 

Clarke presses her back against the back of the cage. “Thank you.” She breathes, trying to draw calm from the presence beside her. “I’m Clarke.”

 

The woman shoots her a dark look. But after a few moments, she settles. “Indra.” She states. “Indra kom Trikru.”

 

Clarke isn’t entirely sure what Trikru is, but she knows enough from her encounter with Anya to know that she’s in Grounder territory. “Thank you.”

 

“Hush now,” the woman snaps, allowing for no time to pause between them. “They’ll be choosing their target soon.”

 

Clarke has a feeling.

 

She knows that there are dozens of people stacked all around her, but she can feel it in her bones, just like she can feel the cool metal against her back. When the figures approach her cage, she’s already sucking breaths like it’s from some sort of straw, strained and quick.

 

When Cage’s face appears before her, Clarke tries her best not to react. She’s still not used to seeing her fiancé’s face before her, cleanshaven and cold. “So we meet again.” The man states, a smile curling on his lips.

 

“Trust me, I wish we hadn’t.” She snaps, knowing full well there’s no point in hiding in the back of her cage. So Clarke moves forward, her head brushing the top, back aching from bending in her position. “If only the absence could’ve been longer.”

 

Cage’s smile broadens. “You seem brave for the person locked in a cage.”

 

“You seem confident for a person whose people are defeated by air.” Clarke returns.

 

The smile disappears and before she can register what’s happening, he reaches in and yanks against her t-shirt and pulls. Her forehead hits the bars with a resounding thud, making Clarke see spots behind her eyes and she tries to readjust to the world again. “I recommend losing the bravado when you’re trapped.”

 

“The mere fact that you have to put human beings in cages to have the upper hand shows how weak your hand is.” Clarke challenges, the world still spinning before her.

 

His mouth snaps shut but he nods at a guard to his left, who moves to unlock the door. She know there’s nothing she can do to stop it, not with guards and Mt. Weather personnel everywhere. So Clarke allows herself to be manhandled out of the cage, falling to the ground. Before she can take stock of any injuries she may have, her hands are wrenched behind her back and she’s hoisted to her feet.

 

Clarke knows she’s small. She barely comes up to the shoulders of Cage, but she remembers what her Captain would always tell her. Head high, as if not one can touch where you are. When you are lost, shoulders straight. When you have despair, eyes ahead. When you know you will not win, don’t let them see you lose.

 

“We’ll see how mouthy you are in a bit.” Cage states, grabbing the collar of her shirt and pulling her close.

 

He doesn’t smell like Jonathan. Clarke tells herself that, that she doesn’t smell the clean aftershave of her fiancé. That she doesn’t see the kindness in his eyes. That this man is hollow.

 

They drag her past a row of cages, a hand sticking out. Clarke startles when she sees Monty’s crumpled form, a trail of blood dripping down his cheek. She shakes her head at him frantically and he pauses before taking his hand back.

 

Clarke expects them to strap her to the contraption rigged at the front of the room, but they don’t stop. They don’t stop past the white walls and bad fluorescents. They don’t stop until they’ve reached a room with tools stacked on trays, chains lining the walls.

 

Clarke allows herself to be strapped down with minimal fuss. “You know, normally I don’t like this part.” Cage states, pacing where her head is currently being shoved on the bed. She can see his feet pacing underneath her until his shadow looms. “But this?” He says. She can even hear the smirk in his voice. “I’m going to enjoy this.”

 

The whirring of the instrument starts.

 

Clarke feels her heart ratchet up.

 

They taught her this in the army. What to do if you were captured. What to do if you were in a place where they wanted information. Remain quiet. Think of something neutral. Leave your body. Protect your mind.

 

Clarke is on a drive in the Midwest, surrounded by corn and cows and a terrible Top 40 station playing softly as she goes to the grocery store when the drill touches her skin.

 

The cornfields paint with red.

 

***

 

Bellamy marches in front, holding his gun tightly to his chest as he looks ahead. He’s doing his best not to reveal the anxiety that is coursing through him, the whispers and murmurs of nerves of everyone crashing against his back like waves on the sea. Miller is marching next to him, casting him glances every once and a while. It’s why he likes Miller. He gets it, but doesn’t feel the need to fill silence with empty words.

 

That, however, can’t be said for his sister, who bounds up. “Bellamy, you know we’re making the right call.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Bellamy—”

 

“They said we couldn’t return unless we agree to live under Arkadia rule. I’m asking everyone here to give up everything we created.”

 

“We’re doing it willingly.” Miller comments from beside him. They wouldn’t be following if they didn’t want to.”

 

“But I—”

 

“Sure, if you had asked us to stay, most would’ve. Maybe all.” Miller shrugs. “But you made the right call. Sure, we have to live with the assholes who sent us here to die—”

 

“The last person who should want to be around the Council is _me,_ they hid me under a floor my whole life.” Octavia cuts in.

 

“—but we want them back too. Listen, when you and the others were taken, we had no idea what to do. We were just trying to figure out how to get you back and we were too late.” Miller states gruffly, decidedly not looking at Bellamy.

 

Bellamy never really thought about that. He never thought what it would be like to on the other side of the mountain.

 

“And when you got out, we realized we were late. We couldn’t save you in time. We lost nine of our people because we couldn’t figure out how to get inside the mountain. None of us are willing not asking for help again. The stakes are too high.”

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy says, words thick. “The stakes are too high.”

 

“You know how pissed Jasper would be if we didn’t get to him in time?” Raven calls from the back where Murphy is helping her over a fallen tree. “That asshole would straight up _haunt_ us.”

 

“If anyone was able to haunt, it’d be that skinny bastard.” Murphy agrees. “And I’d like to have my nightmares clear of his face, because looking at it is nightmare enough.”

 

“You know, you don’t have to insult them, they can’t hear you.” Wells sighs.

 

“If you’re a ghost Jasper, you better fucking stay away!” Murphy shouts into the forest.

 

“You should make him shut up, what if someone hears him?” Miller mutters.

 

“If only I had that power.” Bellamy sighs.

 

Octavia smiles at him, squeezing his shoulder as she flanks his other side. “It’s the right thing, Bell. It’s how we save our friends.”

 

Bellamy knows its true. But when the Arkadia walls comes into view, he can’t help but recoil slightly. They all do, to be honest. Everyone behind them has been hurt by the people who live behind these walls in some way. They force Octavia to hide, they floated his mother, they floated Murphy’s father, they controlled their lives, they placed them in boxes, and they were finally free.

 

Now?

 

Now Bellamy’s asking everyone to go back into those boxes.

 

He hears the familiar click of guns when they approach the gate. “State your business!” Someone shouts at them, all guns aimed at them.

 

“What do you think you’re doing, stand down!” An angry voice snaps from somewhere inside the walls. There’s a scuffle, a yell, and the gates are opening.

 

Marching through them is none other than David Miller, Miller’s father, his long strides taking him to Miller before wrapping him in a hug. “I thought you said you’d be sure to visit.”

 

“I didn’t realize my visits were this much of a hot ticket, Sarge.” Miller says muffled through his dad’s shoulder.

 

“Enough sass out of you.” He states, pulling away.

 

Bellamy doesn’t miss how Miller lights up after that. “I’m back for two seconds and he’s already telling me to shut up.”

 

“Clearly someone needs to.” His dad says with an amused grin. But it falters when he turns to Bellamy. “I take it that this is not a social call if you all are here.” He states, reaching out a hand to Bellamy, which he takes. “Good to see you, but I have a feeling it’s not under the best circumstances.”

 

Bellamy tries not to react to that. “Mt. Weather has three of our people.”

 

Sergeant Miller sombers, but doesn’t hide his lack of surprise well. Bellamy tries not to take any offense to that and drastically fails, tensing so much that he feels someone pinch him in the back. “I’m glad you came.” Sergeant Miller says, gesturing inside. “I’ll make sure you have an audience with Chancellor Griffin at once.”

 

“That stuck?” Murphy calls a few paces behind. “I assumed Kane would’ve shanked her for the job by now.”

 

Bellamy closes his eyes in exasperation when Sergeant Miller huffs. “Not everyone uses your methods of conflict resolution, Murphy.”

 

“Probably why everything is such a mess – at least I’m efficient.”

 

Sergeant Miller turns to Bellamy. “I was hoping space would calm him down.”

 

“Don’t we all?”

 

“Shut up, you know I’m better than all of you!”

 

“Why don’t we continue this conversation inside?” Sergeant Miller says, unable to hid his grin. “Lest we allow the men with the guns get annoyed with him?”

 

“Probably for the best.” Bellamy says, gesturing for everyone to follow him. Sergeant Miller eyes the gesture with a small smile on his lips, watching as the 100 follow Bellamy inside.

 

They may their way through the metal pathways of the Ark that Bellamy grew to loathe during his time in space. “You’ve done well.” Sergeant Miller says quietly when the two of them are pulled far enough ahead so no one can hear them.

 

“Clearly not good enough,” Bellamy grumbles. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have to come.”

 

“You’ve protected them through war and through kidnapping. That takes a good leader. And you made the decision to ask for help with the fate of your people’s lives depended on it. That takes a great leader. Don’t view this as a defeat. View this as a beginning to a victory.”

 

The man claps his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder and he startles. Bellamy tries to say something to break how uncomfortable he feels, but he can’t find the words for it. But Sergeant Miller seems to understand – he takes his hand back and pulls ahead, knocking on a set of closed doors. “We need an audience with the Council!” He calls.

 

When the doors open, Bellamy is faced with everyone who made the decision to float his mother. Everyone who made the decision to send his sister to the Ground as a lab rat.

 

Abby Griffin moves forward. “Bellamy Blake.” She says with a wry smile. “I had a feeling we would meet again.”

 

***

 

Clarke is in an out of consciousness when someone raps against her cage.

 

Honestly, she isn’t sure how she got there. There was a moment when she felt every slice against her skin and then a moment when she felt nothing. It was like she left her body and watched the procedure happen. Watched the blood drip down her back, watched the needle pierce her skin.

 

“Stay awake, Clarke kom Skaikru,” someone says. “You need to move away from the bars, otherwise you’ll get infection.”

 

The words are distant, but they make sense. She had moved against them because they felt cool against her skin. Lifting her head, Clarke pulls herself forward, missing the coolness against her skin the moment she takes it away. “Try to stay away. The time after the treatments are the worst.”

 

She didn’t expect to hear softness in Indra’s voice, but it’s there. Clarke winces as she moves toward the front of her cage. “I’ll try.”

 

“There is no trying, only doing.” Indra states harshly next to her. “Don’t make me change my mind about you.”

 

Clarke wonders what she means, but drags herself away from the back and tries to lift her head up. The aching and soreness radiates from her lower back and she tries to ignore it, but it’s like someone’s holding a poker against her skin.

 

Opening her eyes, Clarke searches around until she sees where Monty’s cage is. She can see his face against the bars and he’s looking up at her. “You alright?” She calls to him.

 

“Clarke!” Monty exclaims. “Are you okay? You didn’t look good when they brought you back.”

 

“I’m alright. How are you – have you seen Jasper?”

 

Monty falters. “They took him somewhere else. I haven’t seen him.”

 

Clarke tries not to fall prey to the despair that’s threatening to hold onto her. She can feel Indra’s eyes on her as she shifts, thankfully ignoring when Clarke makes a small noise when she tries to sit up. “We’ll get him. We’ll figure out where he is.”

 

It’s hard to comfort someone when you both are locked in a cage, but she tries. She wishes she could be there to comfort her new friend, but they’re separated by mental and bars.

 

Their time is cut short. Guards slam the doors open and sprint into the room, running to where Clarke is. “Unlock her!” Cage is shouting.

 

He seems unravelling. She’s never seen that side of him before. It’s terrifying and wild.

 

For the first time, Clarke is afraid.

 

“Unlock her now!” He shouts.

 

Everyone’s looking. Even the Grounders who press themselves against the cages whenever anyone comes in are moving forward. Clarke is yanked out of cage, but before she can hit the ground, she brought to her feet.

 

Through her surprise, she is dragged through the hallways again. She thinks they’re going to extract more bone marrow – she wants to tell them that extractions can’t be done that quickly after another and they should _know_ that, but when they bring her into a sterile medical bay, she doesn’t know what to do.

 

In the corner, she sees Jasper. Clarke sucks in a breath, seeing the tubes and machines hooked up to him. There’s a part of her that dislodges and settles, knowing he’s okay.

 

Before that can spread, she’s brought to a figure.

 

They’re covered in burns. Their entire body is ravaged by redness and sores, their eyes closed. Their chest isn’t moving.

 

“Explain!” Cage all but screams.

 

Clarke doesn’t even know where to start, even if she wanted to. “I-I—”

 

“We gave him _your_ bone marrow. He did _minutes_ after being exposed to the radiation of the earth. _Minutes_. Your bone marrow did _nothing!”_

 

Without warning, Cage cocks his hand back and slams it into her stomach, causing Clarke to double over. “You said you were from the sky, the solar radiation has given you a block. Why didn’t he heal?”

 

He brings his hand down again just as Clarke is trying to get on her elbows, all wind taken from her. She crumbles under the contact, her chin hitting the floor. “Who are you!” He shouts. “Because I know one thing – you are not from the sky. Are you a Grounder spy? A traitor in Mt. Weather? Who are you?”

 

Clarke isn’t given time to even respond, let alone lie, before there’s another blow.

 

“Who are you!

 

_Who. Are. YOU?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: SO
> 
> That scene was kinda a play off a certain scene in S1 of Outlander – the dinner when Randall is trying to get more information out of Claire and then TOTALLY turns the tables on her. And yes – Bellamy basically had to trade his freedom to get Monty, Jasper, and Clarke back. Actually, he had to trade EVERYONE’S freedom.
> 
> Next chapter will be interesting – power plays for Bellamy to navigate, Clarke trying to figure out how to keep her secret, and an attempted rescue! And KUDOS to the people who guessed that Clarke not being from space would cause problems with the blood and such! I genuinely thought I’d trick everyone! I gotta figure out more twisty reveals…
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed loves! <3 <3 <3


	5. Billow and Breeze, Mountains and Seas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I know that this is such a delayed chapter. I actually rewatched Outlander and it re-inspired me to write! I’d also like to dedicate this chapter to talistheintrovert because she’s wonderful and asked me about this fic. And she deserves all the things. I can’t give all the things, but I can give this one thing <3
> 
> Lets just get started!

CHAPTER FIVE

_Billow and Breeze, Mountains and Seas_

 

Abby leads Bellamy into a room off to the side, closing the door as soon as the two of them are together. He expected something a little more grandiose than this; after all, Bellamy had made quite a show about breaking off from Arkadia, yelling quite a few expletives and some unkind words that he assumed would be brought back now. But as soon as the door is closed, Abby takes a calculated step toward.

 

“I take it things at the Dropship aren’t as great as you led us all to believe.”

 

“I know we’ve had our differences in the past, Chancellor Griffin,” Bellamy starts, unsure of how to even approach this conversation. “But—”

 

“Differences is one way to put it. I believe you called us ‘unapologetic murderers that rival Greek tragedies with the moral backbone of Iago.’ I mean, I had to be mildly impressed at the insult, but often we don’t like to be called out in such a way in front of our people.” Abby states, moving around the room. “And the deal was that you would live in the Dropship as long as you continued to do check-ins and council-meetings. None of which, you have attended.”

 

Bellamy clenches his jaw. He thinks that he always knew his rash anger with Arkadia would cause some problems in the future. Sure, he had agreed to be a part of the Council Meetings. But every time he started packing for the trek, he thought about what they did to him – what they did to his sister, to his mother – and he found himself unpacking.

 

“This may come as a shock to you, but I still consider you my people. You may have chosen to live at the dropship and you may have clear disdain for what we’re trying to do, but you and the others are still a part of Arkadia. You are Arkadians and I plan on giving you the protection I would give anyone who lives within these walls.”

 

Bellamy lets out a breath. “I’m glad to hear that. Because we have a situation. Mount Weather has three of our people.”

 

Abby narrows her eyes.

 

“We were getting supplies for our medical tent when they attacked—”

 

“Medical tent. You traditional got your supplies from us. How did you even know what to look for?” Abby asks.

 

Bellamy freezes. He always forgets how intuitive Abby is. There’s something about her that is always calculating what’s going on, finding the loopholes and asking questions no one even thought to. “What do you mean?” He asks, hoping that if he plays dumb, this line of questioning will end.

 

“I know every person who defected to your camp. Sure, you have some people who could wrap a cut, but you don’t have anyone who could provide medical assistance.” Abby states. “No one who would even know what to look for. I know this because I would have never let anyone who had that sort of value defect.”

 

Bellamy panic transforms into something more. It transforms into anger – hatred – everything he ever felt against the Ark, is back. “No one of that value would be allowed to defect? What are you saying about my people?”

 

“ _My_ people—”

 

“No!” Bellamy shouts. “ _My_ people! Because unlike you, I don’t place different values on them. I don’t choose who can die and who can live, based on some bullshit point system!”

 

Abby gives out a hollow laugh. She turns to face the wall, running her fingers across the cold metal. “Spoken like someone whose never had to make the heartbreaking decisions before.” She says gently. “Do you think we took lives because we wanted to? Because of some sort of power play? We had to create structure because if we didn’t, people _died_.”

 

“Because you killed them!”

 

“ _Everyone_ would have died!” Abby shouts, turning toward him, her eyes glassy. “I watched my own husband get floated because of something _I_ did! Do not speak to me as if I don’t know loss. If I haven’t suffered by the system I helped maintain!” She moves up to where Bellamy is. Despite being short, he feels like he needs to cower, her anger rolling off of her in waves. “We have all made sacrifices. We have all sold parts of our soul so our people can survive. You may hold opinions against me, but I will not let you speak to me in that tone, on my land, around my people. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Bellamy blinks, his anger dissipating and something akin of shame growing in his chest. “I just want to make sure my people are okay. Mount Weather has Monty, Jasper, and Clarke.”

 

“Clarke?” Abby asks, frowning. “Who’s Clarke?”

 

“We found her in the woods,” Bellamy says calmly. He thinks of that day. Of Clarke thrown up against the side of a tree, Cage advancing on her. Bellamy isn’t sure what caused him to intervene without thinking – to simply throw himself against the man. But he remembers seeing her frightened, panicked eyes dart around. There was something in them that made his chest buzz, like there was something greater than himself about to happen. “She was on another part of the Ark and had been surviving by herself. She has some medical background and she’s been helping us.”

 

“I don’t know a Clarke,” Abby states. “I know everyone who worked in medical, and I do not know a Clarke.” She lets a laugh out.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just—” Abby shakes her head. “Nothing.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“It’s just, we always thought if we had a daughter, we’d name her Clarke.” Abby shakes her head. “I don’t know a Clarke. How do you know she’s not a Mount Weather spy?”

 

“She’s not.”

 

Abby lifts an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Bellamy Blake was smitten with the stranger in the woods.”

 

“Abby, there are more important things going on right now.” Bellamy snaps, hating where this conversation is going. “They are in Mount Weather.”

 

“What if that was her plan all along?” Abby asks. “Did you ever question why the person who you found in the woods was one of the three who were taken? A person I’m assuming you didn’t know, and I certainly don’t.”

 

“What, no, Clarke isn’t like—”

 

“Bellamy,” Abby states quietly. “You know how much I care for Jasper and Monty. But I am not going to risk the lives of my people for the two. You had to have known I would say no.”

 

“Abby, they _are_ your people, you just said—”

 

“But.” Abby says. “I will not get in the way of anyone who would like to go with you. For that, you have my word.”

 

She moves toward the door, opening it. On the other side are Miller, Murphy, and Harper, a few of the Arkadia guards thrown in as well. She hesitates at the door. “You have to know I don’t relish giving you this news.”

 

“I’m sure you don’t.” Bellamy snaps.

 

“The only thing I pray is that you never have to make the decisions I do. Because it will break you. That I know.”

 

Abby turns and walks out of the room.

 

***

 

Clarke’s sitting in a chair, strapped down. Flecks of blood are around her wrists as she’s pulled against them, her cheeks stained with tears that have dried long ago. Squeezing her eyes shut, Clarke breathes, “This is just a dream, this is just a dream.”

 

Because she longs. She longs to open her eyes and wake up in the Smithsonian, surrounded by construction workers. Clarke knows that she must be worrying everyone back in her time. She thought about Jonathan and wondered how long it was when she didn’t show up to their lunch plans that he called someone. What he was doing now? How he would be handling her disappearance.

 

She’d been running from danger too long in this world to really think about him. It gave her a bit of shame, how little she thought of him in the past few days. She’d been so focused on surviving – doing everything she could to make sure she made it through – that Jonathan’s face grew more and more distant.

 

Her thoughts were interrupted when the door is slammed open, Cage barging in. His eyes aren’t as wild as they once were, but there is a certain level of unhinged that exists dormant underneath them. She swallows, wishing she could wipe the tear tracks against her cheeks as she lets out a shaky breath.

 

“Untie her.”

 

When Cage gives the order, Clarke blinks. It’s not what she was expecting from him, but when the guards unstrap her from the chair, she still doesn’t move.

 

“Where are my manners?” Cage says, a look in his eye that sends chills down Clarke’s spine. “Clarke, why don’t you get cleaned up, and then the two of us will have dinner?”

 

“Where’s Jasper and Monty?” Clarke cries, unable to register anything that’s happening. “I need to see them.”

 

Cage’s jaw twitches. “Unfortunately, that is a request that I cannot grant.”

 

“Jasper was gravely wounded. I need to make sure he’s okay.” Clarke states. “I need to check on him.”

 

“Trust that he’s in the best care possible.”

 

“Trust?” Clarke asks, gesturing to herself. Her lip is bleeding, her ribs protest when she stands, and her wrists feel as raw as they look. “I need to see him.”

 

Cage narrows his eyes. “Will you please escort Clarke to Jasper before taking her to get changed?”

 

Clarke blinks, surprised that he gives in so easy. She knows that he’s playing another game, but she can’t bring herself to care. She’s behind enemy lines with only a few facts about the world that she has in her pocket. Standing up carefully, she eyes Cage. “I’m glad you’ve come to your senses.”

 

“Let’s hope you come to yours.” Cage says as she passes.

 

Clarke tries not to reveal how much that affects her, but allows herself to be led through the halls of Mount Weather with guards flanking every side of her. As they pass, she sees the citizens of the world cower in the corner, as if they’re afraid of her in some way. Maybe they should be. Maybe everyone here should be afraid of her – the question mark that has walked among them all.

 

When the guards open the medical bay, Clarke looks around. She sees Jasper in the corner, hooked up to machines and tubes in a scary sort of way that reminds her of the warp she just finished fighting. Pushing past her guards, Clarke rushes to where he is.

 

Jasper’s paler than she’s ever seen him. There’s an oxygen mask over his mouth and his heart monitor is beeping steadily in the room. Clarke kneels where he is, her hands brushing against his sweaty curls. “You’re going to be okay,” she says, her words catching in her throat. “You’re going to be fine, I’ve got you.”

 

Jasper only responds with the machines that beep in the background.

 

“Did he have surgery?” Clarke asks, standing up and looking at the doctors. They look at her, afraid, as if she will kill them with just her touch. She can’t bring herself to be too affected by it. “What has been done to keep him alive.”

 

“Trust me, extraordinary measures have been taken.” One of the doctors say, pushing forward. “We have to have him healthy to harvest his bone marrow.”

 

Clarke feels a flash of anger, but tells herself this isn’t a battle she can’t win. She’s surrounded by guards with guns and her life – along with Jasper and Monty’s – is only being held by a thread. “Fine. I’d like access to him as much as possible to monitor his progress.”

 

“You seem to be quite bossy for someone who is a prisoner of war.” The doctor states.

 

“And you seem to have forgotten the first part of the Hippocratic Oath, which says ‘do no harm.’” Clarke snaps back. “Or do you simply choose what parts you feel comfortable following?” She turns to her guards. “I’m ready to clean up now.”

 

***

 

“So what are we going to do?” Miller states, his hands around a cup that is filled with some sort of alcohol that Murphy swiped from a storage room. “No one is going to agree to go on a suicide mission into Mt. Weather, even if we asked! They were willing to sacrifice all of us in hopes the Ground was survivable – why would they suddenly risk their lives because a couple of us have been taken.”

 

Bellamy squeezes his own mug. He knows Miller is right. Abby painted him in a corner in only a way a politician could: she didn’t forbid the mission, so he couldn’t revolutionize anyone against her, but she didn’t assign anyone to help. It was the perfect decision, protecting her from any backlash, but also not forcing people to do something they don’t want to do. “We have to do something. We already know that Mt. Weather will kill them if they stay.”

 

Raven taps her fingers against the table. “Well, she didn’t forbid us from using Ark technology. I bet if I spoke to Sinclair, he could help me tap into the radio waves of Mt. Weather so we could hear what’s going on. We could get a better sense of where they’re storing them.”

 

“I know exactly where they’re storing them.’ Bellamy says lowly.

 

He pretends he doesn’t see all their looks at him.

 

He wishes it weren’t the case, but his hands quake. He never wanted to return there. To the place he lost his people, the place he was tortured. “But we need all the information we can get our hands on, you’re right Raven.”

 

“No one’s surprised.”

 

“You go and see if Sinclair will help you tap in their system. Who knows, they may already be trying that. With the two of you, I’m positive you’ll be able to figure it out.” Bellamy turns to Miller. “What are the chances your dad will help?”

 

Miller blinks. “What?”

 

“Your dad. He’s a Sergeant. He may not come with us, but maybe he can upgrade some of our weapons so we don’t lose any ammo.” Bellamy states. “He won’t want you going in completely outnumbered and outgunned. I also think—”

 

“You guys are going to Mount Weather?”

 

The group of them peer up to see a woman approaching, her eyes hard. “Mrs. Green,” Miller states, eyes wide. “H-How did you know?”

 

Mrs. Green approaches them, sitting down at the table where they are all gathered. “There’s a rumor going around that you’re here because Mount Weather has Monty. And Jasper.”

 

Bellamy nods, unsure of what to do. The woman’s eyes water, but she sucks in a breath. “I want to help. Chancellor Griffin says that I’m needed here, but my son is danger. I wasn’t able to do anything to prevent him from being sent to the Ground, but I can help here.”

 

“And there’s no way you’re going in there without me.” Sergeant Miller approaches the table and eyes Miller. “I have a feeling there’s nothing I can do to convince you to stay, so I think the only option is that I join.”

 

“You won’t be able to get in without me.” Sinclair approaches. It’s as if they heard everything they were talking about, and it occurs to Bellamy that they might’ve. Raven smiles as he approaches, in that soft sort of way that he rarely sees. “I couldn’t help but overhear. And you’re right – we have been trying to get into Mt. Weather’s system. And I have a feeling that if I had some help from Reyes, I’d be able to finally crack it.”

 

“Hell yeah, you would,” Raven smiles. “You probably did the best you could.”

 

“Okay, just like the Ark, this is a sass-free zone.” Sinclair says.

 

“Unlikely.” She retorts, but Bellamy can see a true fondness between the two of them.

 

“I think we can get about ten more people involved.” Sergeant Miller stats, straightening. “Parents of those who have been lost on Mount Weather and a few others who have disagreed with the passive approach to the war. I think if we get enough people, we can have a strong infiltration of their base.”

 

“Dad,” Miller says. “It’s dangerous, are you sure—”

 

He snorts. “Miller. Hannah said it perfectly. We all had no choice when they chose 100 of our children to send to the Ground. I thought I would never see you again. The Ground being habitable was a pipe dream that no one believed in. We weren’t able to stop that, just like we wouldn’t have been able to stop you from being floated when you turned eighteen. But now? We can finally help you the way we should’ve. We’re your parents—”

 

“We’re all adults now—”

 

“—which is why we know you have to make your own decisions.” Sergeant Miller smiles. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t stop being your dad. And as your dad, it’s my job to protect you and anyone else who is in trouble.”

 

“I will do anything to get Monty back. And Jasper’s been like a son to me since his mother died.”

 

Bellamy can’t help but feel an ache in his chest at all of the support. He looks around, as if his own mother will appear, even though he knows it’s impossible. He catches Octavia’s eye and she looks down and he knows she feels it to.

 

Everyone starts to plan and talk and for the first time ever, he feels supported by the adults in the Ark.

 

Abby’s words are still ringing in his head and there’s one absence that he can’t ignore.

 

No one comes up, looking for Clarke.

 

***

 

Sitting across from Cage on a long table, Clarke takes a tentative bite of the food in front of her. It’s better than anything she’s had since traveling through time, but her stomach is in such knots, that she finds that she can barely eat anything. Cage, on the other hand, has no such reservations. He eats calmly across from her, taking a sip of wine from a glass.

 

Wiping his napkin with his mouth, his eyes flit in her direction. There’s something sinister and violent behind them and Clarke tells herself he’s not Jonathan. She’s tells herself this over and over, but she can’t help but see the man she loved in front of her.

 

“So Clarke,” Cage says, setting his napkin aside. “You and I both know that there are things that you aren’t telling me. That you may not even be telling the people you live with. Because I’ve taken marrow from all of the Sky People, and I have always been able to get my people on the Ground. Except one dosage from you, and I’m down one of our Council Members.”

 

“You’re giving immunity to the most powerful first? How very Oligarchic of you.”

 

Cage snorts. “Let’s not pretend that you have some sort of moral high ground here. After all, you are slinking around, looking out for your own survival. Your own self-interests.” Cage picks up his wine and lifts an eyebrow. “Why don’t we stop the pretense for a moment? It’s exhausting to keep up.”

 

“What do your people think of the heinous acts that you’re doing? Taking the marrow of innocents?”

  
Cage sets his wine down, but doesn’t answer.

 

That’s when it hits her. She looks at the man and for the first time, he seems ruffled. He takes another drink of wine and she does something she would normally not do in this scenario. She takes a risk. “Of course, I’d be concerned too if they didn’t know.” Cage’s head whips up at that, eyes wild once more. “Because everyone is alright with simply taking blood, but bone marrow? What would people think about that?”

 

His eyes narrow.

 

“That’s why the common people don’t know about it, do they? Because they would probably take some issue killing kids for it. It makes it so you can test as much as you want, give your own political allies immunity, and then gain strength to take over the entire Mountain.” Clarke finally takes the glass of wine that’s in front of her and takes a sip. “How close am I?”

 

Cage doesn’t say anything right away. She can see his mind working as fast as it can, but enough so that Clarke knows she’s caught a nerve. She doesn’t know who is in charge of the Mountain, but she can say with certainty it isn’t this man. “Is that why you put us in cages with the Grounders? To hide us away?”

 

Cage’s face stills. He stands up from his side of the table, taking his glass of wine with him. He paces in the room, straightening.

 

In the corner, the red light on the camera blinks.

 

***

 

“This is where Raven had a brilliant idea,” Sinclair is saying, surrounding by computers and buttons that Bellamy simply doesn’t understand. “I’ve been trying to hack into the entirety of Mount Weather, which has been challenging due to the distance, the security, as well as simply because it’s a concrete fortress. But then, Raven mentioned – what if there’s a one-off? What if there’s a particular part of the Mountain that isn’t a part of the rest of the network?”

 

“It was because of what you said, Bellamy.” Raven states without turning around in her chair while typing. “You said that they separated the rest of the citizens to the Grounders. Out of sight, out of mind, right? What if they did the same with a part of their network?”

 

Sinclair walks over to another workstation. “That’s when we discovered there’s a whole siphoned part of Mt. Weather. A part that isn’t hooked up to the rest of their firewall and encryption.”

 

“So, like a secret network?” Wells asks, crossing his arms as he stares at the computers exactly how Bellamy feels: confused.

 

“Exactly like a secret network.” Sinclair says. “There’s something that’s completely separated from something else. Something that only a few people have access to, so its security isn’t nearly as complex.”

 

“Just give me a few more seconds,” Raven says, eyes narrowing at the screen. “And… I got it!”

 

She presses ‘ _enter_ ’ and the screen scrolls text, flashes, and then various screens pop up. They all are of different rooms, showing medical bays, drilling rooms, and other spaces that people walk in and out of. Bellamy pushes forward so he can scan the screens, desperately trying to see something familiar. Most of the screens are empty, barring a few people who wander in and out. He almost pushes back, but then in the corner screen, he sees two figures sitting at table.

 

When one stands up, his eyes widen, “That’s Cage!” he says, pointing to the figure. “And that’s—”

 

He freezes.

 

 _Clarke_.

 

Even on a black and white screen, he can see her curly hair. “No,” he breathes.

 

“Was Abby right?” Raven asks, looking up at him. “Does she work for Mount Weather?”

 

“That’s impossible.” Bellamy says, shaking his head. “No, no. I would’ve known if she was a Mount Weather spy.”

 

“Then explain why she is sitting, having dinner with Cage instead of being locked inside one!” Murphy shouts, smacking the screen so it glitches.

 

“Hey!” Raven exclaims. “Easy on the technology.”

 

“Can you get audio?” Bellamy asks. “Can you pick up what they’re saying?”

 

Bellamy can’t believe it. Even as Raven types furiously, he doesn’t believe it. Cage is clearly speaking long, but Clarke’s too small to see her expression.

 

But all the signs point to yes.

 

She’s in clothes he doesn’t recognize, plates in front of her with her hands in her laps. She barely moves as Cage paces.

 

“Okay, give me a second to strengthen the signal,” Raven says. “And—”

 

 _“Don’t get me wrong, Clarke. I admire your passion. We all know that woman have the capacity for great deception.”_ Cage is saying and Clarke doesn’t move. _“Who you’re deceiving, that remains to be seen.”_

 

“Fuck!” Murphy exclaims. “I knew she was a spy! I _knew_ —”

 

“You don’t know that.” Wells says quickly. His eyes are wide at the screen, but there’s something else behind them that Bellamy can’t read. “Just shut up.”

 

Clarke shifts uncomfortably in her seat. _“If we’re speaking about deception, we should discuss you. Because I don’t think you’re truly accepting the position I’m in. All it takes is for me to tell the right person what you’re really doing.”_

 

Cage laughs. _“You think some Sky whore like yourself will be believed over me? The son of the President?”_

 

Clarke stills.

 

Bellamy can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. It’s clear that Clarke had no idea and she sets her drink

down. “She’s one of us,” Bellamy says. “She’s playing a game.”

 

“You don’t know that—”

 

“She clearly doesn’t know him.” Raven snaps. “And he doesn’t know her.”

 

_“Oh, that wasn’t a part of your research, girl? You didn’t know that my own father is the one who runs this entire Mountain?”_

_“I take it he does not agree with your tactics, then. So you decided to do it in secret, without him knowing.”_

Cage straightens up. _“My father will come around. Once our people are outside, he will come around to my way of thinking. I just need to squash a few bugs in the process.”_ He turns to her. _“Now we get back to you, Clarke. Are you a Grounder?”_

Bellamy frowns. “Why does he think that?”

 

 _“Your marrow_ killed _one of our council members. That is an executable offense!”_

_“I don’t recall giving you permission to take my bone marrow, so lets not pretend you have any morality in this situation.”_

“Gotta hand it to her,” Murphy says. “She’s got balls.”

 

“She’s gonna get herself killed.” Wells mutters.

 

_“You’d like to pretend to be the innocent here. But I think you and I both know that you are not. Now, I asked you nicely who you were, and you didn’t respond.”_

 

Clarke opens her mouth to respond, but then Cage whips in her direction.

 

_“Now, I don’t like doing this sort of thing, because it’s so ungentlemanly. I leave the barbary for the Grounders. But I have to admit, they have a certain way of getting information out of people.”_

 

Bellamy stiffens. He looks at Murphy – one who was once in the Grounder’s clutches – and he sees the same fear on his face that he feels.

 

_“Harris, feel free to leave and lock the door behind you.”_

_“Sir, I was instructed to make sure you were safe—”_

_“Do you think that I cannot protect myself from a small girl? And where would she go if she got the best of me? I ordered you to leave. And I forbid you to enter the room, no matter what you hear.”_

Bellamy looks over to where Wells is gripping the back of Raven’s chair. Something in him stirs. He doesn’t know if he can watch what’s about to happen.

 

 _“You call yourself a gentlemen,”_ Clarke says carefully, but even over the bad reception, he can hear the catch in her words. _“And yet you perform such heinous acts. I wouldn’t even call you a man.”_

“Oh my god, Clarke,” Raven sighs, placing her hand over her face.

 

“What is she thinking, goading him?” Wells snaps.

 

Bellamy can’t respond.

 

_“Perhaps not. Perhaps I’ve lived underground too long and I’ve lost what little humanity I once had. But to win this war? It is a trade I willingly take.”_

 

Clarke’s hand moves to the top of the table. Bellamy watches as she grabs something and puts it in the sleeve of her cardigan, not removing eye contact from where Cage is by the window. Cage turns to her.

 

 _“Now, let’s do this again.”_ He says, taking something out of his pocket. Even on the small screen, Bellamy can see the blade. _“Who are you?”_

 

_“I told you. My name is Clarke and I’m from the Ark—”_

_“Stop! Lying!”_

 

With that, Cage approaches where she’s sitting. Clarke moves and for the first time, Bellamy sees the chain at her wrist, attached to the table. “Fuck,” he breathes. “I-I—”

 

He almost says he can’t watch it, but the words get lost in his throat.

 

Cage approaches her, placing the blade under her throat. _“How about now?”_

 

What happens next moves almost too quick for any of them to register. Clarke moves her hand down so whatever she put up her sleeve comes down. In a quick movement, she swipes it across his face and Cage lets out a scream, covering his cheek. Clarke grabs a vase from the table and lifts it above her head. Bellamy expects her to bring it down on Cage’s head, but instead, she smashes it against her own hand on the table, letting out a strangled cry.

 

“What the fuck!” Murphy exclaims.

 

Placing her hand on the cuff and taking a breath, Clarke cries as she yanks her hand, stumbling when it slides free. “Oh my god, she broke her own thumb, that’s so fucking hardcore.

 

She picks up the chair and swings it against Cage, the man stumbling until he hits the ground. Picking up the knife he was just threatening her with, Clarke runs to the door, her hands hesitating before the handle. With a preparation breath, Clarke yanks it open and sprints out.

 

She disappears from view.

 

No one in the room makes a sound.

 

Bellamy tries to find her running across the monitors they have access to, but he sees nothing.

 

Taking a breath, he tries to settle himself. Bellamy turns to the rest of the group surrounding the monitors. “Well, I think that settles it.” He says. “We need to get them asap.”

 

Murphy lifts an eyebrow. “We can’t let Clarke have all the fun. I’d like to take down a few Mount Weather scum.”

 

“No,” Bellamy says, his eyes not leaving the monitors, desperately wishing she’d come back into view. “We can’t let her have all the fun.”

 

The group they’ve assembled is bigger than he expected. Miller’s Dad and Monty’s Mom weren’t lying about recruiting other parents. They are staring at the screens with horror and resolution, finally looking at where Bellamy stands. No one says anything. It finally occurs to him that they’re waiting for his lead.

 

He takes a breath.

 

“We attack Mount Weather tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: MOUNT WEATHER.
> 
> So sorry for the delay! I’m trying to find a line between comparing Randall and Cage, without making it nearly as psychotic, mainly because I don’t think I can healthily write that. I’ve been going back and forth about the arranged marriage aspect of Outlander, but I think that I’ve come up with a solution that I think you’ll like – and I’m super excited for! And there will also be the equivalent of the witch trails, the arranged marriage, and the return home.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! <3 <3 <3


	6. Mountains of Rain and Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! I hope you’re having a good day! I’ve been on a bit of a writing kick, so I couldn’t help but move forward with this! And I’ve recently rewatched Outlander, and it’s on my brain!
> 
> Let’s do this, loves!

CHAPTER SIX

_Mountains of Rain and Sun_

 

Clarke is running.

 

Her heart pounds in her chest as she sprints down the hall, the florescent lights flickering above her head. She looks behind her shoulder, no one following her. Until she rounds a corner and skids to a halt, a pair of shocked and panicked eyes reaching her. The guard named Harris stares at her, freezing. She does the same. Clarke knows that she must look like quite a fright, with blood trickling down her neck from the point of Cage’s blade and a hand transforming black and blue.

 

It’s whoever moves first.

 

Clarke is always sure to be the one who moves first.

 

Slamming her foot down on his, Clarke brings her elbow up and jams it into his nose. He makes a noise and brings his hand up to his face, so Clarke takes the moment to bring her hand on the back of his head and shove it into the wall. He crumbles. Clarke ignores the blood dripping from his nose as he lies still, grabbing his gun at his side, then his key card. “Sorry,” she says, hesitating over his unconscious form. “It’s nothing personal.”

 

Except she’s broken her hand and can barely hold the gun. Putting it in her left hand, she winces. “Fuck,” she whispers under her breath.

 

She makes her way through the halls of Mount Weather, gun at her side.

 

Holy shit.

 

Clarke tries her best not to throw up. The past few days have been more than she could ever understand. There’s a part of her that keeps thinking she’s going to wake up. That something in the Smithsonian hit her on the head, and she wakes up with Johnathan next to her, with that concerned look on his face.

 

Except.

 

Johnathan’s face is slowly drifting away. It’s replaced with Cage, and she’s having a hard time separating the two. The love of her life is becoming more and more of a distant memory. Just like her life after the war.

 

Now she’s back in a war.

 

Swiping the card across a reader, Clarke hides behind the wall and peers through. She sees nothing more than a handful of people walking down the halls. They’re not in guards uniforms. They’re in regular clothes, holding hands, doing such normal things. “Civilians,” Clarke says to herself. They were always the worst casualty of war.

 

Swiping under her chin, her hand comes back wet with red. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” she cries. She wipes her hands on her shirt, staining it with red. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” She exclaims.

 

Sticking her card in her pocket, she presses against the wall. “Clarke, you can do this. You can do this, you can do this.”

 

She repeats it over and over again. Maybe at one point, she’ll believe it.

 

***

 

“We’ve got three of our own in there.” Bellamy says, walking up and down the lines of people who’ve joined them. “Monty, Jasper, and Clarke. We need to get in a smoothly and quietly as possible. Do they have Grounders? Yes. Do they prose a threat in the future? Yes. But right now, we need to focus on our people. We need to get in, get out, and get them back.”

 

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a dreamboat when you’re giving inspirational speeches?” Murphy asks, head lolling to the side as he messes with his gun.

 

“Murphy,” Bellamy growls.

 

“I mean, seeing you there, pacing while you tell us everything we can do when we work as a team? It makes me hot.”

 

“Miller, please deal with Murphy for me.”

 

There’s a swift kick and a shout, and Miller nods at him. “Done.”

 

“Now, as we know, there are three ways of getting into Mount Weather The bunker hatch, the east wing, and the tunnels. We’re going to be going through the tunnels. It puts us on the south corridor of Mount Weather, which is the closest to the prison and draining room. All we need to do is climb through the shaft they use to dispose of bodies. We can gather clothing there. Once we’re inside, we’ll need to get a key card and make our way to the cages. Hopefully that’s where we’ll find Monty. Jasper will be in the hospital wing, because they won’t let him die if he can be harvested for marrow. Clarke is the wild card. Hopefully she won’t be caught, but she’ll be around. There’s no way she’s leaving Monty and Jasper behind.”

 

“How do you know?” Sergeant Miller asks. “From what you’ve told us, she barely knows them. She just escaped torture, why would she stay? Even for Monty and Jasper.”

 

Bellamy can’t explain it, but he feels a rage he can’t explain. An anger at anyone saying anything against Clarke – questioning her loyalty. He opens his mouth to argue against when Wells steps up. “I spent an evening with Clarke in a very dangerous situation. We’d been taken by the Grounders and they were demanding she heal a girl who looked like she was going to die. And she got both of us through it. So don’t say that she wouldn’t stay for Monty and Jasper. Because she did everything she could to save a complete stranger. Why wouldn’t she try to save Monty and Jasper? She got _captured_ because she refused to leave Jasper behind. So try again.”

 

Sergeant Miller’s mouth twitches into something that may be a smile. “Alright then.”

 

Bellamy looks around at the line of people. Some he expected, some he didn’t. He glowers, as if daring any of them to say anything else.

 

They don’t.

 

It’s shocking. He has spent his entire life fighting for a place in this world. He was nothing on the Ark. He was nothing when he was on the Ground. And now? Now he had people lining up, prepared to die because he said they had a chance.

 

Sucking in a breath, Bellamy quiets. “On the Ark, we didn’t have a lot. We were taught that survival of the human race was the most important. That we needed to do whatever we could to make it back to the Ground. But now we’re on the Ground. We’re on the Ground and we’re under attack in a way that we never expected. But we’re from the Ark. We specialize in survival. We will survive this too.”

 

“Fuck yeah we will!” Murphy exclaims and he lets out a shout that no one offers support of. “Well fuck all of you.”

 

“Simmer down, Murphy,” Bellamy says, but he can’t keep himself from smiling. “Let’s do this.”

 

“Let’s fuckin’ do this!” Raven exclaims, thrusting her fist into the air.

 

Everyone cheers, raising their weapons in the air.

 

Murphy groans. “What the fuck, guys?”

 

***

 

Clarke is in a hallway by herself. She doubled back, trying to find routes without civilians. It may have been her downfall. At one point, the alarm resounds, screaming the word _‘Prisoner Breach. Prisoner Breach.’_ She closes her eyes and takes a preparation breath. Swiping her card, she peeks around the corner.

 

All she sees is cages.

 

Clarke searches the room to see if anyone is there, and when there isn’t any movement except the minute movements of those behind bars. “Monty!” she hisses, moving quickly through the bars. “Monty, where are you?”

 

“Clarke?”

 

The word is quiet and shocked, but she sees him. His face presses against the bars and he’s looking around for where the voice is. Clarke runs up to his cage and reaches into it, grabbing his arm. “Monty!”

 

“Clarke!”

 

“Monty!”

 

“Who slit your throat?”

 

Clarke brings her hands up to her throat. “Cage. How do you feel about me freeing you from this one?”

 

“Love it, brilliant, transcendent, best idea you’ve ever had.”

 

Clarke looks around. “Shooting it is probably a bad idea.”

 

“Yes, terribly. Please don’t kill me.”

 

“Right.” She states, frowning. “I should probably come up with a way to get you out of here without killing you.”

 

“That would be preferable, yes.”

 

Clarke searches the area, seeing a pipe on the ground a few yards away. Rushing over to grab it, Clarke returns and shoves it through the lock. She wrenches the bar down with ever ounce of energy she has, screaming when her broken thumb strains against the metal. “What happened?!” Monty exclaims when he finally sees it.

 

“I broke my thumb,” she groans.

 

“Who did this to you?”

 

“I did this to myself.”

 

“What? Are you crazy?” Monty exclaims, backing up from where she’s moving the bar. “Why would you do that?”

 

“I dunno, I was bored. I just thought it’d be fun. It had nothing to do with the fact that I was _chained to a table by a psychopath_.”

 

“Alright, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

 

“Imagine my relief.” Clarke grumbles. There’s a snap and she falls forward, the lock gives away. Clarke grabs the cell door and yanks it open. Monty lunges into her arms, wrapping around her shoulders.

 

“Oh my god, I really thought we were going to die here.” Monty says, clutching her. “I can’t believe we somehow made it through.”

 

“We’re not out yet,” Clarke laughs, holding him back. “We still got to go get Jasper.”

 

Monty freezes. Eyes red, he asks, “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, let’s go get Jasper.” Clarke says, pulling back from him. “We’re not going without him.”

 

Monty pauses. “Thank you, Clarke.”

 

There’s a slam against the bars and Clarke looks up. Indra presses herself against her cage. “Clarke.”

 

“Indra!” Clarke cries, moving toward the cage. She brings the bar and moves to try and hook it through the lock when Indra grabs her hand.

 

“Don’t,” she says, grabbing the bar. “I’ll get myself out. Find your friend and we’ll meet up outside.”

 

Clarke hesitates. “Indra,” she says. “I need to get you out.”

 

“I am able to get myself out of this cage. And then I will get my people out. Find your people. And we’ll meet outside.”

 

“We’ll meet outside.” Clarke says, nodding.

 

Reaching into the cage, she grabs Indra’s arm. Indra flinches at the touch, but then reciprocates. _“Oso gonplei nou ste odon.”_ Indra says, intensely staring at Clarke.

 

She has no idea what it means, but she knows enough by the weight that she puts into it. The woman squeezes her arm tightly, fixing her with a gaze that goes straight to her bones. Nodding, Clarke turns and grabs Monty’s arm and the two of them sprint toward the center of the room. Hanging from the ceiling are the tubes and wires, posted where Clarke has seen a few Grounders strung up. Looking around, she surveys the area. “So if the tubes are coming out of the ceiling, that means the hospital is on the other side.”

 

“And that’s where Jasper is?” Monty asks, eyes wide. “How do you know?”

 

“I saw him when Cage was threatening me.” Clarke responds, peers around. “Have you seen which door they come out of?”

 

“That one over there. But do they know you escaped? Wouldn’t they make sure to—”

 

When Clarke opens the door, they’re face to face with a line of armed guards, all of which bring their guns up to level at that. “Shit!” Monty exclaims, reaching out for the door and slamming it shut. The sound of bullets ricocheting off the back of the door. “Well, I think they know you escaped.”

 

Clarke looks around the room filled with cages, thinking of everything she was ever trained for. “We need to find another way out.”

 

“How are we going to get Jasper? They are going to be guarding him now that they know we’re out.” Monty stops, grabbing Clarke’s shoulders. “I am _not_ leaving here without him.”

 

“I’m not saying we are!” Clarke exclaims. “I’m just saying we’ve lost the element of surprise and we need to find another way to get to him.”

 

Monty looks at her suspiciously.

 

“We are _not_ leaving Jasper. We will find a way to get to him. I promise.”

 

Monty hesitation melts away. “Okay. Okay, we will. Do you have any ideas?”

 

Clarke looks around, the sound of boots starting to resound around the hall. “No, do you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Perfect.”

 

***

 

Bellamy crouches outside the entrance to Mount Weather, peering through his scope. The door before him seems impenetrable, a solid force keeping him from his people. He turns to Sergeant Miller whose standing next to him, frowning. “Any ideas of how we could get in?”

 

The man shakes his head. “Outside blowing it up, I can’t think of anything. But from what we know about their people, that would mean innocent casualties of everyone in there. I couldn’t take that on my consciousness, could you?”

 

Bellamy doesn’t respond.

 

Mainly because, he thinks he could. Sure, he understands what it means for him, what it means for what he’d be turning into. But to get his people back? He thinks it’s a trade he’d be willing to make. And frankly? That scares him more than any gun could.

 

“We need to view this like chess.”

 

Bellamy startles when Wells moves up to where they are and he has a stick in his hand and he’s drawing lines in the ground. “What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“Listen to me, this is a game of chess we’re playing with them. You ever play?” Bellamy stares at Wells like he’s a different creature, so the man continues. “That door is the Queen. Inside is the King. We’re looking at the most powerful player on the board. But there are other pieces on the board. If we take them, we can get the King without the Queen being able to do anything about it.”

 

“Is this your nerd way of saying there may be another entrance?” Murphy calls from the back.

 

“There has to be more ways of getting in, right? Because they’ve been attacking us from all sides and we’ve had people watching this door and people rarely come out.”

 

“The caves,” Octavia pushes her way through to the front. “Lincoln told me about the caves that run into the mountain. The Grounders avoid them because that’s where the Reapers come from. But there has to be entrances in there.”

 

“Why would the Grounders want to avoid the Reapers?”

 

“They’re their own people.” Wells says stoically. “Brainwashed and gone, but they don’t want to kill their own people.”

 

“I, however, have no such loyalty.” Murphy says, looking through his gun.

 

“Literally could be a summary of you.” Raven drawls.

 

“Those Reapers have killed many of us.” Bellamy states. “Many Grounders, too. I’m with Murphy. I have no issue them being a casualty of this.”

 

Sergeant Miller looks at Bellamy curiously. Bellamy thinks the man can see through him – see the darkness within his heart. The violence he’s able to inflict if he lets it loose. He claps his hand on Bellamy’s shoulder. “You have courage. Your mother would be proud.”

 

Bellamy recoils. Of everything he thought the man was going to say to him, that wasn’t it. It catches him off guard and he wants to hide away, but instead he merely looks at the man and nods. “Thank you.”

 

“Because of that, I feel like I should warn you.”

 

Bellamy freezes. “What?”

 

Sergeant Miller looks around and lowers his voice. “The reason Chancellor Griffin let us all join you is not simply to extract our people in Mount Weather.”

 

Bellamy stares. “What? Then what possibly could she want from this mission?”

 

“That woman – Clarke – poses a threat. We have no record of her on the Ark. No one knows who she is. She may not be from Mount Weather, that much is certain now. But she’s definitely not one of ours. The Chancellor wants us to bring her back so she can be questioned in front of the high court.”

 

“Questioned?” Bellamy repeats. “Clarke hasn’t done anything wrong.”

 

“That’s not true, Bellamy. She’s _lied_ to everyone. We don’t know who she is. And out here? That’s a threat and a danger. And you agreed to the Chancellor that if she helped you, you would be true citizens of Arkadia. Which means you have no choice but to turn the woman over once we return.”

 

It’s as if the ground shifts beneath his feet.

 

It shouldn’t matter as much as it does. He barely knows her. But the idea of the Chancellor getting her hands on Clarke makes Bellamy sick.

 

He always remains true to his word.

 

But there’s always a first time for everything.

 

When Bellamy doesn’t respond, Sergeant Miller gives him a wry smile. “However, if there was an instance where you two didn’t make it back to Arkadia with us, perhaps that could be prolonged.”

 

Bellamy looks at the man. He thought after being kicked out of the Guard, he would never feel that sense of comradery again. But here he is, at the threshold of Mount Weather with men and woman willing to die for him, receiving it anyway. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“I didn’t do anything. I was merely keeping an open line of communication with my Captain.”

 

Bellamy sucks in a breath. _Captain_. “Okay,” he says, clearing his throat. “We’re going to caves. We’ll get in.”

 

“How?” Someone calls. “We’ve tried to infiltrate Mount Weather before and have never been successful. What makes this time different?”

 

Bellamy opens his mouth to snarl, but Raven steps forward. “Mount Weather’s never met me before. Ladies and gentlemen, Mouth Weather.” She gestures at the mountain. “Mount Weather, your worst nightmare.”

 

“Damn,” Wells breathes. “Gotta love her confidence.”

 

“Is it confidence if it’s straight fact?”

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes.

 

***

 

There’s a pounding against the hospital door as Clarke and Monty grip the bar they’ve latched through the handle. “This isn’t working, in case you haven’t noticed!” Monty cries as he jerks against the slams against the door.

 

“Oh really?” Clarke snarks back. “And here I thought this was going incredibly well!”

 

There’s a crashing sound on the other side of the room and Clarke sees figures rush toward them. “Oh my god,” she breathes.

 

“Now’s a good time to put that brain into use, Clarke.” Monty cries.

 

“Me? What about you?”

 

“All I’ve done is grow weed, come on—”

 

Just as the two of them are ready to run from the door, as a guard passes, a cage door swings open, slamming him in the face. Indra hops out, staring at the unconscious guard on the ground for only a moment before reaching out and slamming another against the bars. “Run! Clarke kom Skaikru!” Indra shouts.

 

More cages open as the Grounders pour out of the cages, their emaciated bodies still more powerful than the guards of Mount Weather could control. “We have it here! If you manage to escape, find Trikru and tell them Indra sent you. You will be welcome there.”

 

A guard reaches over to where a gun scattered on the floor, his fingers grasping around the handle. “Indra!” Clarke cries out and Indra quickly disarms the man.

 

“Go!”

 

She vaguely feels Monty grab her shirt, pulling toward a door in the corner. “Clarke we have to go!”

 

“But—”

 

“Clarke, come on!”

 

She and Indra take one last look at each other. She feels the intensity on the woman’s gaze and finds it hard to look away. But when Monty pulls her forward, she goes behind the door and the woman is gone.

 

The two of them find themselves in a deserted hallway, with nothing but the flickering florescent lights above their heads. Surrounding them are nothing more than blank walls and shadows Clarke thinks are people.

 

Her time in the army was nothing like this. She spent the majority of her time in a tent, watching young soldiers give their lives for their country. But she wasn’t out on the field with them. She merely heard the noises of bombs around her and patched them as best she could when they came to her. Her hands quake at the memories and she can’t help but wonder how humanity has not evolved in hundreds of years.

 

“We need to get somewhere safe,” Clarke says, pulling Monty.

 

“Safe? In here?”

 

“Safer than out in the open. Come on.”

 

The two keep to the shadows as they move, Clarke trying to quiet her breath. Every part of herself feels like it’s on fire, running through the lines of war. She can’t escape it. Maybe it was her fate to always be surrounded by war. To be stuck in the line of life and death.

 

There’s a shout and screams, and a resounding _clang_. Footsteps start to pound against the pavement closer to them, so Clarke throws herself against Monty. He squeals at the closeness, but the troops run past them, not even sparing them a second glance.

 

Silence follows.

 

“Um.”

 

“Right,” Clarke says, straightening up. “My bad, sorry.”

 

“Good thinking, but you know I’m with Harper, right?”

 

Clarke rolls her eyes. “I’m not trying to get with you Monty, just trying to save your life.”

 

“Don’t lie to me, I felt the vibes.”

 

“Oh my god,” Clarke groans.

 

_“Security Breach on the west corridor. Security Breach on the west corridor.”_

“Thanks to the dumbass who’s taking on Mount Weather,” Clarke breathes.

 

Monty peers down the hall. “I happen to know someone who is a big enough dumbass to take on Mount Weather.”

 

Clarke drags Monty inside and closes the door behind her. They’re greeted to rows and rows of bookshelves and slats, going back to an expansive room. “What is this?” Clarke asks, wandering down on the of the rows.

 

“Do I look like a Mount Weather expert to you?”

 

“You should know more than I do,” She says absently.

 

“How?”

 

Clarke stills. “What?”

 

“How would I know more than you?”

 

Clarke opens her mouth to say something, but there are no words. She can’t think of a lie quick enough. Instead, she stares at Monty who is looking at her in that way that makes her feel vulnerable and want to share everything. “I—”

 

A crash in the room breaks the tension that’s settled between them. Grabbing his hand, Clarke drags him down to the ground behind a few wrapped boards, color peaking out. Bright blues and white flowers show through the tears. “Holy shit, is that the waterlilies?” Clarke exclaims.

 

“Clarke!”

 

“Sorry.”

 

The two of them peak over the shelves to where a group of people have huddled in the center of the room. They’re saying something in hushed tones, but they look off. They’re not in the clean garb of the Guards’ uniform. “Let’s get closer,” Clarke whispers to Monty and the two of them move quietly among the books and art. Clarke thinks she even sees _Guernica_ in the corner and she has to resist the urge to go look.

 

“—we don’t even know where to look!” Someone’s saying. “They could be anywhere!”

 

“We _do_ know where to look, we need to get to the cages!”

 

Clarke stills.

 

She knows that voice.

 

Whipping her head to Monty, Clarke’s eyes go wide. She sees he’s making the same conclusion as she does at the same time.

 

Then she does something completely irrational.

 

Something stupid.

 

Something that could only be the action of someone who’s falling in love with a boy from the future.

 

Standing up from behind the bookshelves, Clarke sprints to where the group is, pushing past the throng of people. She hears the guns cock in her direction, the yells, the swears.

 

Launching herself at Bellamy, Clarke wraps her arms around him.

 

She can’t explain it.

 

She doesn’t know him. She’s spent less than a week with the man. And since she’s arrived in the future, she’s been assaulted, kidnapped, shot at, tortured for information, and her bone marrow removed. But for some reason all of that goes away when she sees him there.

 

She holds tightly on his shoulders and the panic that had been rising in her throat settles. The fear of war and the life she just ran away from dissipates. For the first time since before she joined the war, she feels safe.

 

It makes no sense.

 

It shouldn’t be Bellamy making her feel like this. She has a fiancé at home and a life. A life that was going to be without war and without the loss she sees around.

 

But this world is different. It takes on a different color. The air is clearer. For the first time in her life, she feels a part of something greater than herself. Something she thought the army would give her, but it only gave her blood of the innocent and nightmares.

 

She feels his arms clutch her tightly and he breathes, “Clarke,” in her ear.

 

Clarke lets herself believe. She lets herself believe that the way his voice catches is for her.

 

For the first time, she lets herself believe that maybe she’ll stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: On to find Jasper!
> 
> Aw yeah, give into it, my dear Clarke! Next chapter will contain THE SCENE (for those of you who’ve seen Outlander, I bet you can guess what it is). It was set up this chapter, but will all come to a head next chapter.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! <3 <3 <3


	7. All That was Good, All That was Fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> I seem to be writing like a crazy person again, but I’ve just been really inspired lately. Now that I’ve finished my Halloween fic, I’ve settled my sights on this one, because it’s getting closer to the moment I really wanted. 
> 
> Let’s go to the Skye Boat!

CHAPTER SEVEN

_All That was Good, All That was Fair_

 

When something hits him, everything in Bellamy’s chest stills. All the panic, all the pain, all the worst-case scenarios he’d been rolling around in his head flash before his eyes one by one, as he moves to get his gun at his side. Bellamy waits for people to shoot the attacker, waits for a knife to be held at his through.

 

It never comes.

 

Instead, he faintly registers whomever has attacked him has wrapped their arms around him and is squeezing tight. Then he realizes the simple, embarrassing fact: someone is hugging him.

 

Once that becomes clear, he looks at the mane of wild, blonde hair that’s tickling his face. He can’t even say the woman’s name because relief washes over him like someone’s doused him with water. Bellamy goes from panic, despair, and the need to attack, to melting in the woman’s arms. He wraps his own arms around her and pulls her close, taking a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

 

Bellamy wants it to stay like this for longer than he should. He knows he needs to speak with her, to calm everyone down at their surprise guests, but he needs to hold her for a second longer. Bellamy isn’t sure how this woman became an integral part of his life in such a short amount of time. But having her here, pressed up against him and in a safe moment of time, felt right.

 

He spent years battling everything. The Ark, the Grounders, Arkadia – his own vicious habits. He fought and he fought, telling himself every choice was right if it meant saving the people he wanted. He never thought about moving the earth for a woman – that sort of quest was for those in the books he read to Octavia growing up. People moving mountains for their loved ones, just to see their faces one last time. It was a romantic sentiment, and a foolish one. One he always revered in the soft corners of his mind, but chided with the world of reality.

 

God, he would move mountains for the woman in his arms.

 

It scares him.

 

The power, the ferocity of the emotions for her. It’s something he never thought he would feel, that it was for people with purer hearts than he. Now that it’s grabbed hold of him, he finally understands the stories of burned cities for love. Because he would burn Mount Weather to the ground if it meant he got one more day to hold Clarke like this.

 

People say love is to cherish. It’s in this moment that Bellamy realizes love is also to fear.

 

Clarke pulls away from him, her eyes bright and relieved. He can’t help but smile at her, even though he remembers that he’s angry – angry that she ran away from him, angry that she got herself kidnapped by the Mountain Men and Cage. He takes a moment to survey every inch of her, taking in every cut, every bruise, every discoloration that shouldn’t be there.

 

Reaching out, Bellamy brings his hand to her face where there’s a cut on her cheek, blood crusted against her skin. With his thumb, he brushes it away carefully. The world disappears. All the shelves, all the books, all the painting, and most importantly, all the people. He’s staring into her eyes they’re safe, if but for a second.

 

“Bellamy,” she breathes and it sounds like a spell from her mouth.

 

“You’re alive.” Is the only response he can bring himself to say.

 

“We are also here.”

 

Murphy brings Bellamy out of the world where only he and Clarke exist. The two flinch apart, but Clarke continues to look at him in that way that makes something in his chest stir. When she finally tears her eyes away from him, she reaches out to where Wells is beaming, the two of them embracing tightly. “I’m here too, but not in the foolish, almost kill yourself way Clarke is.” Monty says with a way, emerging from behind the shelves.

 

“Monty,” Bellamy says, rushing over to where the man is, pulling him in a hug. “How are you, are you hurt?”

 

“Only emotionally.” Monty says with a grin. “They put me in a cage that had no electricity. It was really rude.”

 

“The electricity is the appalling part of that story?” Raven drawls, rolling her eyes.

 

“Come here, you asshole,” Murphy says, embracing Monty. “I’ve had three days of quiet and it was weird.”

 

“I knew you liked me and Jasper.”

 

“I never said that.”

 

“Speaking of Jasper,” Bellamy says, looking around. “Is he alright?”

 

Clarke and Raven break apart. “He’s in the hospital wing,” Clarke states. “They saved him from the gunshot wound, but he’s still in their custody. Monty and I were just trying to figure out how to break in and get him.”

 

“You were going to stay and run a fools errand?” Bellamy turns to see Sergeant Miller sizing Clarke up, his hands across his chest as he surveys her. Clarke startles and turns to the man, appearing offended at the mere implication, which Bellamy tells himself is not a cute look on her. “You don’t know the man for more than a weeks, if I understand correctly. Why would you stay within the mountain for a man you’ve only known a week?”

 

“Why would you break into mountain, risking all your lives for three people?” Clarke asks, turning to face him. She tilts her head up defiantly, as if daring the Sergeant to say anything against her. “Because there is no beautiful life without honor.”

 

Sergeant Miller recoils, surprised at the words. “Alright then.” He states.

 

And apparently, that’s that.

 

Sergeant Miller turns to Bellamy, lifts his eyebrows, and give him a soft smile. Bellamy isn’t sure what it means, but it probably is more teasing than he cares to admit.

 

“So now that we’ve agreed we’re all on the same page,” Octavia states, pushing her way through the group. “How are we going to get Jasper?”

 

“I do _not_ recommend opening the door from the cage room.” Monty says, bringing his hand up. “They are not fans of that and they will shoot at you.”

 

“It’s not the smartest plan we’ve ever had.” Clarke says, wincing. “But there is one advantage that we have in this scenario.”

 

“What possibly could be an advantage right now?” Murphy exclaims. “Is it the fact that they have home court advantage, the fact that we are wildly outnumbered, or that we have no way out?”

 

“You are a big downer.” Raven says.

 

“The truth sucks and then you die.”

 

“Some sooner than others.” Bellamy groans, running his hand down his face.

 

“Yes, those are all the advantages, exactly what I was going to say.” Clarke states dryly, rolling her eyes. “Or it could be the fact that they won’t kill any of us.”

 

Everyone turns to her. “Wait, why wouldn’t they kill us?” Wells asks.

 

“Isn’t it obvious?” she says. “They want our bone marrow, they’re not going to shoot and kill someone who can provide eight people with the capacity to go outside. It’s the same reason they’re not killing Jasper, they need him to save eight people. And if we get in a gun fight, they are not going to shoot to kill. They’re going to shot to incapacitate.”

 

“But that still involves shooting.” Murphy snaps. “How is this a positive?”

 

“In my training, we were always told if you are up against a foe with every advantage, the best thing you can do is startle them.” Clarke continues. “Because when you are on enemy territory and they have you out gunned, there’s only two ways this can go. You live, or you die. But we get to take one of those away. They don’t want us to die. So the only outcome is to live. It’s whether we escape or get captured. And if they’re going out of their way not to kill us, we have the advantage, because we can startle them more than they can attack us.”

 

“That’s a good point.” Sergeant Miller states. “Though, that is not a training regimen that we taught on the Ark.”

 

As soon as the Sergeant says that, everyone grows quiet. Bellamy sucks in a breath, knowing that this conversation is coming, even if he doesn’t want it to. Bellamy knows Clarke’s been holding secrets from them, secrets he’s been fine to look the other way on, but they’ve reached a point where they can’t anymore. Everyone is looking at Clarke and he can see her resolve breaking. It’s painful to watch. To watch someone as proud and fierce as she crumbles under the gazes of those she claims to be a part of. Clarke opens her mouth to argue, when someone else cuts in.

 

“It’s not a training that the Ark gave, but I’ve read that in a book. _The Art of War_ , I think.” Wells says, breaking the tension that was growing insurmountable in the room. “It makes sense to use the advantages against them, especially when we have none. I think it’s a good start.”

 

“No one’s arguing against that,” Sergeant Miller says. “I would love to speak with you more about this training once we escape this dungeon.”

 

“I’d be more than happy to.” Clarke says quickly, already regrouped form the scrutiny. “But we have more pressing matters on hand.”

 

“That we do.”

 

“Alright, we’re agreed. We need to focus on Jasper.” Bellamy cuts everyone else off from interjecting. He moves so that he’s close to Clarke, knowing that it’s coming off as a threat to anyone who comes after her. Good. He knows Clarke’s lying. But he can’t help but feel the need to protect her from whatever Arkadia has to throw at her. “I know the halls decently around here, and you two know where they’re keeping him.”

 

“They most likely will move him.” Wells cuts in. “If they know that Clarke and Monty have been trying to get to him, they won’t keep him in the hospital wing.”

 

Bellamy knows that the man’s right. Now that they’re in the mouth of the beast, he realizes this is as far as anyone has planned. He’s back, in the place where he’s lost so many, and almost lost himself.

 

“The extraction rooms downstairs.” Clarke says, eyes lighting up. “They need a place that still has medical equipment so they can monitor his health. The extraction room has all the monitoring equipment that you need for something like that.”

 

“Y-You—” Bellamy starts, swallowing to try and regain the full use of his voice. “You know of the extraction room?”

 

Clarke’s excitement over the idea falters. Her face gradually falls when he stares, her hands coming in front of herself as if to physically close off. With a quick nod, Clarke looks away.

 

That’s when he sees it. The dark, rusty stain at the base of her back. A stain he grew all too familiar during his time here. They didn’t come quick enough.

 

“Easy now,” Miller whispers in his ear as he starts to spiral a bit. “We can deal with that later. Right now, we need to focus on Jasper.”

 

“Right.” He says, placing his hands on his hips. “We need to get to the extraction room. Clarke’s right. If they’ve moved him, that’s where they’d take him.”

 

“Oh, we should mention one more thing.” Monty says, putting his hand up. Everyone turns to face him, Bellamy preparing himself for the worst of whatever Monty could say. “Clarke kinda released a Grounder leader and there’s a good chance there will be a full on mountain men vs. Grounder war happening.”

 

A smile curls on Bellamy’s face. “Dude, how is that a good thing?” Murphy asks. “We could get caught in the crossfire.”

 

“It is a good thing.” Bellamy says. “It’s a distraction.”

 

“Still sounds like a good way to get shot, but whatever.” Murphy mumbles.

 

“Now that we’ve determined all the ways we could be shot, I say we find the extraction room.” Raven states.

 

“I agree. Let’s move out.”

 

Bellamy takes a few strong strides, but then something catches his eyes and he stops. Someone knocks into his back and he hears the faint, “What is it?” behind him.

 

A box sits in the corner.

 

It’s unassuming. The corner is ripped and there are clothes pouring over the sides. He wouldn’t think of it in a room filled with forgotten objects, but there’s something he recognizes. It glints in the low lights, and Bellamy can’t help himself. He walks over to the box and picks up a shirt that’s sleeve is hanging over the flap.

 

It’s a shirt with blue stripes on it and buttons down the front. There are a few tears in it, and the left sleeve is missing the cuff. Underneath it is a pin. Bellamy sucks in a breath, swallowing to try and keep back the tears that are threatening to fall past his eyes.

 

“Bellamy,” Raven says, walking up and placing a hand on his back. “What is it?”

 

“Oh my god, that’s Jarod’s.” One of the adults who joined the group says, a hitch in her voice as she runs to the box. “His father gave it to him on his fourteenth birthday. He always had it in his pocket.”

 

She lets out a strangled sob and the tears he’d been fighting so hard to keep at bay fall. Bellamy reaches down and sees shirt after shirt, keepsake after keepsake. A box full of clothes of the dead, cast aside as if they meant nothing.

 

Bellamy’s gripping the shirt in his hands, his body shaking. Everything was cast away in a box. Like it was nothing more than a receptacle for them to get what they wanted. Bellamy had been fighting the pull against his darker impulses, but in that moment he knows. He knows that he’s ready to end this all.

 

They were nothing more than things to shove in cages. Clothes to shove in boxes. All arguments against the humane thing to do go away.

 

“This ends now.” He growls, tossing the shirt back in the box. “This ends here.”

 

***

 

Clarke tells herself to calm down. Except the sirens are pulsing and someone handed her a gun and she’s running in enemy territory after being a prisoner of war.

 

She thought her war days were over.

 

Clarke wanted nothing more than peace. She thinks of how she holds the gun to her chest and how heavy it feels. A weight she never wanted to have again, yet here she is. Except this is their lives and what will remain of their lives, if Life is as cruel as it seems to be. She runs with people she’s only known for a week, ready to die for those that need her. It was the same in the war she fought.

 

There’s one difference, though.

 

She’s fighting to save those who were captured, for those who need their homes, instead of for a war she didn’t understand or want to be a part of. War never was something Clarke thought she would do with her hands. She thinks absently of the paintings she was looking at what felt like lifetimes ago, wishing that she would be able to draw again. Maybe that would erase the countless stains of blood on them, of teenagers lives who signed up to fight a war they didn’t understand. Innocents, too.

 

“Hold,” Bellamy states, putting his hand up. Everyone stops behind him, holding the guns to their chests.

 

The lights in the hallway are flickering and Clarke reminds herself she’s not on the battlefield. She’s not, she’s not, she’s—

 

“It’s okay,” Wells leans in close to her, something knowing in his eyes. He always speaks to her in a way that feels like it’s filled with half-truths. “We’ll be out soon. Focus on something tangible and we’ll get out.”

 

Clarke looks up at him, his eyes not giving away any sort of hint of whatever he’s speaking of. He nods at her and she knows she has to muffle the thousands of questions that are running through her head.

 

“Okay, let’s go.” Bellamy states, waving them forward.

 

They make their way through the hall that Clarke was wheeled through. Her breath hitches as they go further down, remember the way the instruments felt pressed against her skin. The way the drill pierced her. She tells herself it’s for Jasper over and over again, allowing her to put one foot in front of the other.

 

They find themselves in a bleak hallway, a few dark figures at the end. Bellamy peers around the corner, returning. “There are three guards at the end of the hall.”

 

“Finally, some math in our favor.” Murphy says.

 

“If we shoot, they know we’re here,” Bellamy states, putting a hand up before Murphy can round the corner.

 

“Would you prefer we materialize before them like witches? Or have you found a mode of transportation other than walking right now.”

 

Clarke sighs, but knows he’s right. “We still have the element of surprise.” She offers. “They won’t kill Jasper.”

 

Bellamy grits his teeth, but she can see it when the resolve breaks over him. Nodding, he puts his fist up in the air. With two quick gestures, he motions everyone around the corner. There are three shots, then three people hit the floor.

 

The group of them sprint down the hall, but already there’s a scramble of noise. People yell further in one room and they hear the footsteps coming from all sides. “I guess it’s time to put that theory to the test,” Wells says, bringing his gun up.

 

“Eyes sharp, weapons hot.” Bellamy states, putting his gaze through the scope of his gun. “We’re going to get Jasper back and we’re going to get out of here.”

 

“I think it’s time for one more of your speeches,” Murphy says as they look around them. “Because I could use so annoying optimism right now.”

 

“Couldn’t we all?” Sergeant Miller mutters.

 

“We need to keep moving. Miller, Murphy – make sure nothing’s coming from behind. Sergeant, we’ll take the lead.”

 

“Copy that.”

 

Murphy and Miller run to the back of the group without any arguing, turning around to face the opening from which they’ve came. They step carefully backwards as the group moves forward, Clarke making her way close to the front. “Clarke, fall back.” Bellamy states without taking his eyes off the front. “We know this place.”

 

Clarke swallows her fear. Then she does something she hasn’t done intentionally since arriving: she tells the truth. “I have more experience in war. I should be up here too.”

 

Bellamy tears his eyes away from the front line and gives her a look that says everything. That they will speak later and that she cannot escape it.

 

Perhaps it’s for the best.

 

She wasn’t doing great at hiding it anyways.

 

Clarke moves toward his left, her gun down at her side. They turn a sharp corner and many soldiers are standing in a line. Clarke fires off a few rounds along with Bellamy and the Sergeant, metal hitting walls and a few errant people. There’s a cry to their side and Sergeant Miller collapses. Before anyone else can register, there’s a cry of “Dad!” from the back.

 

“Miller, get back here!” Murphy shouts, but it’s to no avail. Miller rushes to the front line where his father is on the ground, grabbing his leg as blood oozes out. “Miller!

 

Soldiers rush from behind where they are, Murphy shooting at them as they approach. “Hold your fire if you want to escape with your lives!” Someone shouts and everyone stills.

 

Clarke sets her guns down on the ground quickly, looking around to see if anyone will shoot. All the Mount Weather soldiers move closer to them, their guns pointed at the small group. In a quick move, Clarke dives to the ground where Miller is. “Stop!” One of them cries. “Don’t move!”

 

“I’m not letting him die here!” Clarke shouts, placing her hands on his leg. “And something tells me you don’t want him to die here either!”

 

“Clarke!” Bellamy shouts. “What are you doing?”

 

“This should be familiar to you by now.” She grumbles, tearing her sleeve and ripping the whole thing off. Her thumb is still throbbing from when she broke it earlier, but it’s a distant sort of pain. A pain that she’s gotten used to, that is no more than a sprinkling numbness traveling up her hand. Logically, she knows that’s not a good sign, but it’ll do for now.

 

Taking her sleeve, she wraps it around his thigh above the gunshot wound, pulling it tight. Sergeant Miller lets out a cry and Miller grips his father. “Don’t let him die, Clarke.” He hisses. “Please. He’s the only family I have.”

 

“Doing my best here—”

 

“I said don’t move!”

 

One of the guards moves closer to where she is knotting the tourniquet, bringing the gun close to her head as she kneels on the ground. “I said, don’t move.”

 

“And I said no.” Clarke snaps back. “I won’t let this man die for you.”

 

The man lowers the gun so she feels the cool metal against her temple. Closing her eyes, her hands hesitate. But when she opens them, she sees Miller’s face. The panic, the fear, the desperation. She’s seen it so many times with young soldiers, as they watch their friends die before their eyes – a possibility they never expected possible.

 

Her hands hover over the wound. She need to cut off the blood flow from his leg, or he will bleed out. His eyes are already fluttering shut and his skin pale. “I can’t stop.” She states.

 

“Then, I’ll have to do this.” The gun clicks and she flinches.

 

“Don’t touch her!” Bellamy shouts and then the clicking of several guns fill the area.

 

“Looks like you don’t have a choice but to let me.”

 

“That’s enough, Thomas.”

 

The voice is so familiar, Clarke grows cold. There’s a few seconds, then the gun is taken away from her head, so she returns to tying the cloth around his leg and knotting it quickly, her hands slippery with his blood. “Keep applying pressure,” Clarke whispers to Miller, who places his hands tightly around his father’s leg.

 

“I knew we would meet again, Clarke. I’m relieved it was so soon.” Cage steps in front of the soldiers, who keep their guns up. “I’ll hand it to you, my girl. It was a clever escape. But you know what your downfall is?”

 

He stands in front of Clarke, looming over her. She wills herself to stand and face the man, face the evil who carries the eyes of her lost love, trying her best to be unflinching. He moves toward her and it feels like slime is coating her skin. She wants to retreat – to recoil – but there’s nowhere to run. Bellamy takes a step toward them, but is stopped when several guards rush over an point their guns at his head. He can do nothing more than put his hands up, his eyes panicked as Cage grows closer to Clarke.

 

“Your downfall is you didn’t leave the moment you got the upper hand.”

 

“I will not abandon Jasper to the cruel fate you have in store for him.”

 

“You should.” Cage states. “He would’ve died without us, and he’ll die here. There’s no end other than death for him. There could’ve been a different ending for you, but instead you’ve brought me several more hosts. So I suppose I should be thanking you for the amazing gift.”

 

He reaches out, brushing a stray hair from her face and behind her ear. Clarke wants to scream, she wants to flinch, she wants to throw up, but all she can do is remain still.

 

“Don’t touch her!” Bellamy growls. “I swear to god, I’ll rip your head off myself!”

 

Cage tilts his head toward Bellamy. “You.” He says with a grin curling on his face. “You’re back. I always knew our paths would cross again.”

 

Cage takes a step toward Bellamy and he stiffens. “The one that got away. The only one.”

 

Bellamy stares at Cage, his eyes filled with hatred and disgust. “I will burn this place to the ground.” He mutters dangerously.

 

“No, I don’t think you will, boy.” Cage gazes at Bellamy, his eyes raking up and down. “If your marrow wasn’t so precious, I would take you as a Mountain Man. You’ve more than proven your worth.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Maybe I will do that anyway. Make you tear apart the people you fought so hard to protect.”

 

“I would never—”

 

“You wouldn’t have a choice, boy. You would simply… behave.”

 

Bellamy’s jaw clenches and twitches, and Clarke sees the loathing. His hand is still wrapped around his gun and she can see the desire. The desire to take this man out of the world, no matter the consequence. His hands tighten around the gun.

 

So she does something drastic.

 

Something stupid.

 

Because no one points the gun at the small, blonde girl.

 

With a quick movement, Clarke slides on the ground, grabs her gun, and launches herself at Cage. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she wrenches his head back and places the gun against his temple. “Bellamy, don’t.” She pleads.

 

Everyone’s attention turns to her and suddenly she’s in the center of the wrath of the Mount Weather. “Clarke!” Bellamy cries as soldiers moves closer to her.

 

She’s shaking from head to toe. Clarke knows. She knows she won’t make it out of here, not with Cage at her hands. But it was worth it. It was worth it if Bellamy doesn’t die due to his own courageous stupidity.

 

He’s looking at her in that way that takes her breath away. The way that stirs things inside of her, makes her act irrationally. Clarke never acted irrationally for anyone. She knew what needed to be done, what she needed to do in order to succeed. She always followed her own path, regardless what anyone thought, including Jonathan.

 

But when Bellamy looks at her, she wonders what lengths she would go to in order to keep the man alive. As she holds the life of the man who wears her fiancé’s face in her hands, she knows the answer. Would she be willing to give up Jonathan for Bellamy?

 

“Please don’t do this, Bellamy. Don’t die a stupid death. We can figure something out.” Clarke blinks away a few tears, her quaking growing. The gun shakes. So she looks at Bellamy and tells herself she’s safe because he’s here. “Please don’t die before we can figure something out.”

 

“Clarke—”

 

“I need you to live. Please.”

 

Bellamy’s eyes widen. She doesn’t break it. Clarke _needs_ him to feel it.

 

Slowly, Bellamy sets his gun on the floor.

 

“What is your plan now, Clarke?” Cage asks viciously as the soldiers move in closer. “You may have the gun at my head, but I have twenty on yours. Why don’t you do the smart thing and set the gun down, you’re outnumbered.”

 

“Why don’t we remedy that?”

 

The words are fierce and angry. Clarke moves her attention to where they’re coming from and a row of Grounders stand behind the soldiers where they point their guns, nothing in their hands. It doesn’t matter. Groups of them step up to the soldiers, grab their heads, and _twist_. Soldiers fall to the floor, necks askew, as Indra moves forward. In the ruckus, Cage elbows Clarke in the stomach, the pain surging through her. Her entire body screams, tired from the days of abuse it’s been under. She lets out a cry and the man rushes to a door at their left, swinging it open and sprinting away.

 

“Clarke!” Bellamy cries, rushing as she collapses. He takes her head in his hands and says, “That was so, so stupid, do you know that?”

 

“You were going to get killed if you shot him, Bellamy.” Clarke states. “I had to stop you. You can’t die, not like this. You deserve to die outside of war, peaceful.”

 

Bellamy looks at her, surprised. Clarke wonders if anyone has told him before – told him that he deserves more than a violent life and a tragic death. As his eyes skate from her eyes to her lips, she thinks not.

 

“I told you that I would be able to break my people free, Clarke kom Skaikru.” Indra states from above where they are on the floor. Clarke takes her hands and Indra pulls her up, then the same to Bellamy.

 

“Thank you,” Clarke breathes. “I don’t know what we would’ve done.”

 

“I do. You would’ve died.”

 

Clarke nods. “Okay, I suppose I did know.”

 

Bellamy turns to her. “I really appreciate the help. I have one final question. Did you happen to see a friend of ours while you made your way through here?”

 

Indra smiles. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

 

***

 

After the Grounders took out the soldiers, it was a surprisingly simply mission to get Jasper out. Turns out Clarke’s instincts were right – he was being monitored at the last extraction room with no more than two guard to watch over him after the destruction of the others. The group of them manage to carry both he and Sergeant Miller out with no more causalities.

 

When Clarke emerges from the caves leading through Mount Weather, she blinks at the sun, it’s beautiful, yet harsh light hurting her eyes. She steps out into the forest, the smell of the trees and the rain biting the air. Tears sting her eyes.

 

They escaped.

 

It isn’t until Clarke stands here at the edge of the mouth of the cave does Clarke realize she genuinely thought she was dying in that cave. Bellamy notices her hesitation and retreats back. “You alright, Princess?”

 

Clarke can’t help but laugh at the nickname, the nickname that once brought her ire. “Yeah,” she says, taking a deep breath of the clean air. “I believe I am.”

 

It is a slow trek with Jasper and Sergeant Miller, but they clamber over a steep hill, Clarke able to see the glinting sign of _Arkadia_ in the distance. “Let’s hurry and get them to Abby and Jackson.” Miller urges. “Before anything else exciting happens.”

 

“What are you talking about?” Murphy drawls. “We just went on a nice walk in the forest.”

 

Miller glowers at him, but there isn’t any heat in it. The group makes their way down, but before Clarke can follow, Bellamy puts his hand out. “We need to talk.”

 

Clarke frowns at the arm cutting her off. “What?”

 

Bellamy grabs her arm and pulls her to a handful of trees that provide them coverage, bringing her to a fallen one to sit. Clarke allows herself to be led out of mere confusion, taking a seat. Bellamy paces in front of her, running his hand down his face. “Bellamy,” Clarke says. “What’s going—”

 

“I made a deal.” Bellamy cuts her off, turning around, his eyes wild. “I made a deal with the Chancellor.”

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“I-I needed help, I needed more people, more weapons, to get you guys out of Mount Weather. We couldn’t do it by ourselves at the Dropship, so I needed to get more people. So I made a deal with the Chancellor.”

 

The relief Clarke felt from the sun goes away. “W-What was the deal?”

 

“That we would integrate within Arkadia.” Bellamy answers. “That we wouldn’t be our own people at the Dropship, that we would be a part of the city. Abide by the Chancellor’s rules and government.”

 

“Oh-kay, but—”

 

“You’re not in the database, Clarke.” Bellamy says, finally stopping his pacing. He turns to her, eyes wide. “You’re not in the Ark database and they have records of everyone – even my sister, and she was hidden under the floor. Except we saw you with Cage, and he didn’t know you either. The only person who you seemed friendly with was Indra, but she called you Clarke kom Skaikru.”

 

Clarke fidgets with her hands, her heart beginning to race.

 

“But you knew things about the Ark you shouldn’t have unless you were there. But you’re not from the Ark, are you?”

 

Clarke looks at him, fear clutching her throat so that she can’t find any words.

 

“You’re not from Mount Weather, either. Clarke, are you a Grounder? Sent to infiltrate us?”

 

“What, no—”

 

“Then who are you?” Bellamy shouts and she recoils. He winces. “Sorry, it’s just—” Running his hands through his hair, he pushes onward. “Clarke, we’re now a part of Arkadia. It was the deal I made to get you, Monty, and Jasper out of Mount Weather safely. But I can’t protect you if you’re not honest with me. The Chancellor is going to question you. She’s going to press you for the truth. And her tactics may not be the same as Mount Weather’s, but the Ark was an unforgiving place. And those feelings don’t go away, simply because we made it to the Ground.”

 

Bellamy moves to sit next to her, grabbing her hand. Clarke finds that she can’t bring herself to look at him. Her mind is racing, trying to think of something – anything – to get her out of this. Finally, when she has the courage to reach his eyes, she sees no malice there. No anger. Nothing that will cause him to let go of her hand.

 

“You’re right,” she says, her voice wavering. “I haven’t been entirely truthful with you. B-But it’s because you’ll think I’m crazy.”

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy says, placing his hand under her chin and lifting it up so she has to look at him. He swipes a wayward tear away with his thumb. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know the truth.”

 

Her lip trembles. She wants to trust him. But everything that has happened since she arrived in the future has been about survival. And the wrong move could be her last.

 

But there was no way out now.

 

“When I tell you, you’ll lock me up. It doesn’t make any sense.” She says, her voice catching. “I honestly can barely believe it myself, and if you weren’t here, touching me, I wouldn’t believe it now. But you’re right. I wasn’t on the Ark. Nor was I in Mount Weather, or a Grounder.” Bellamy’s hand drops as he looks at her, perplexed. “The reason I know things about the Ark is because a week ago, I was in a museum. I was reading about the creation of the Ark. People were getting more and more worried with nuclear war, climate change, everything. We were destroying our planet. And everything was so dire, no one knew what to do but to flee to space.”

 

He doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t let go of her hand.

 

Bellamy merely… listens.

 

“I was in Washington D.C., at the Smithsonian. There was a new exhibit about the Ark and what it meant to save humanity. They were still working on it, but there were pieces of the failed experiment everywhere. I just wanted to escape, to learn something that wasn’t war. Then I heard a pounding and when I touched, it, I woke up here, in the forest. I know about the Ark because I read about it. I read about what it was to be – a savior of humanity in the sky. I know about the Ark, because it was in all the newspapers. It was going to save us.”

 

Bellamy’s expression is unreadable.

 

“I’m not from the Ark. I’m not a Grounder, from Mount Weather.

 

“I’m from the past.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: There it is! The confession!
> 
> Next chapter will be Clarke meeting Abby, their… talk, and then another secret is revealed!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! <3


	8. All That Is Me, Is Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi loves! 
> 
> I hope you’re having a good weekend! I wanted to first highlight a change in the tags I made to this fic, which now includes MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, which is happening in this chapter (I’d been back and forth of whether to do it, but made up my mind). If you know the story of Outlander, you probably have an idea who it’s gonna be and why. 
> 
> If you don’t, I’m sorry in advance.
> 
> I love you all though! <3 <3 <3

CHAPTER EIGHT

_All That is Me, Is Gone_

 

There are moments when Clarke wishes time would move slower. She used to think of these a lot when she was in the Army, all the moments that she took for granted before being sent into a war zone. About how Johnathan’s nose crinkled when he laughed, or the time that they were caught in the rain after a nice meal, the two of them completely ruining their outing clothes.

 

This is not one of those times.

 

Bellamy’s barely moved from where the two of them are sitting, Clarke long since mustering the courage to look at him. He isn’t keeping her gaze. Instead, he focuses on the ground, as if that will give him some sort of explanation. Clarke knows she sounds completely crazy. She knows that what she’s asking to believe defies all logic. She understands that there is a small possibility she’s getting out of here with anything other than rope tied around her hands for the insanity she’s suggesting.

 

“Bellamy,” she whispers after a moment when he doesn’t say anything for far too long. “Bellamy please, please say something.”

 

Bellamy’s head whips up in her direction as if he’d forgotten she was there. “So, uh,” he starts, licking his lips when the words catch in his throat. “When I met you in the woods and you were being attacked by Cage, you—”

 

“Had just arrived.” Clarke finishes. “That’s why my clothes were so odd – one minute I was in the Smithsonian and the next—”

 

“You’ve been able to see the Smithsonian?” Bellamy asks, his words bright. He seems to realize what he’s asking and then shakes his head. “That’s not important. So when you saw Cage, you called him someone else’s name. He’s—”

 

“Johnathan. Cage must be a descendant of Johnathan’s because they look exactly alike.”

 

“Who’s Johnathan?”

 

“My, uh—” Clarke isn’t sure why she’s hesitating. Telling Bellamy feels like a betrayal, but she isn’t sure why. “My fiancé.”

 

His expression is unreadable. For a moment, he’s clearly taken aback, but recovers, stone faced. He takes a breath and asks, “Can you start from the beginning?”

 

So she does.

 

It pours out of her, like damn that had been building up and she didn’t know it. Once she started, she couldn’t stop – but it wasn’t just the time traveling. It was everything, the war, the confusion as who she was when she was no longer on the front lines. “I went because I thought that we were fighting for something admirable – for freedom of the world,” she says to Bellamy, her eyes watering as she thinks of the many late nights filled with screaming. “But it came out that it was nothing more than a money grab of our world leaders, to try and gain oil and other financial benefits. I watched as teenagers died, crying for their mothers and friends, in the dead of night.

 

“When I got here and heard the bombs, I thought that it was all a dream. That I didn’t actually get out of the war, but my resignation was a dream. That I was back on the front lines, desperately wishing I was home.”

 

“You went from one war to another,” Bellamy says in a low voice. Clarke can’t bring herself to look at him as tears well in her eyes. She tries to scrub them away.

 

“They were all just children.” She says. “Who signed up because they thought it was the right thing to do – to defend their country. But what exactly were we all defending? I still hear the screams when I shut my eyes, and I see all the faces of those I’ve lost in all of yours. You want to know why I stayed for Jasper? Why I stayed for Monty and everyone else? I have too much blood on my hands to leave anyone. I may not know you all very well, but I know what it’s like to be left for dead at night, with nothing more than the scavenging animals and bugs to accompany you.” She quickly wipes her tears with the back of her hands.

 

Clarke continues up until this moment – the fear of being found out, of being punished for not being of this world. Of being scared she’d be found out from all groups at play.

 

“What did you hear?” Bellamy asks. Of all the things she spoke about, that wasn’t a question she expected.

 

“I’m sorry?”

 

“You said you heard something when you were looking at the pieces of the Ark. Something that drew you in.”

 

“I-I—” Clarke thinks back, frowning. “It was a language I’d never heard before. All I remember was the end.”

 

“What did it say?”

 

“I think, _Yumi na teik won sonraun au?_ ”

 

Bellamy looks at her. “Will you take a life with me?”

 

“I’m sorry, what?”

 

When she recoils, Bellamy laughs. “It’s a Grounders song. One they sing at celebrations and gatherings. It’s called _Will You Take a Life with Me._ It’s all about they’re belief that blood must have blood. And that we are all warriors on this earth and the world may end, but we are here to fight. Sounds fitting for someone who was desperately trying to put that part of her life behind her.”

 

Clarke startles. “What?”

 

Bellamy doesn’t say anything. She stands up, her hands in front of her, ready to run as soon as it’s confirmed. “Do you…” She can’t even say it out loud.

 

“I believe you, Clarke.”

 

As soon as he says those words, Clarke feels all the tension she’s been holding in her chest crumble. She lets out a shaky breath and feels her eyes watering again. “Y-You do?”

 

A smile stretches across his face and he says, “Yeah, I do. Honestly, it never occurred to me, but it’s the only thing since you’ve gotten here that’s made sense. How you know of the Ark, but aren’t in the system. How you have military training, but none of us have met you. How you can be outside in the world, but aren’t a Grounder. How you’ve been looking for a way home, but we’ve impeded every part of it.” Bellamy moves closer to her. “I’m sorry.”

 

Blinking away her tears, Clarke asks, “What do you have to be sorry for? I-It’s not your fault.”

 

“You’ve gone from one war to another. When all you wanted was for time to rest.”

 

Clarke’s lower lip trembles. It’s something she’s said in her darker moments, but never out loud. Bellamy looks at her the same way those in her squadron did – that he _knows_ and wishes that he didn’t. Reaching out, Bellamy grabs her and pulls her close.

 

Clarke falls into his chest, her hands tucked in front of her. He wraps his arms around her, strong and forceful, as if to keep her from falling to pieces. She didn’t realize how much she needed to tell someone, and more so, someone to give her comfort in a time of great confusion.

 

Not just the time travel.

 

After the war, Clarke _longed_ for someone to hold her like this. Without any pretense of knowing the sights she’s seen or struggled with. But simply _being_ there because they knew that the world was lonely and often horrible. And when the world is lonely and horrible, there are few things that are as warm as another. Because of his own demons he faced, Johnathan could never be there for her. Not like this. Not when he was focused on taping himself back together after a war as well.

 

Because of this, Clarke finds herself breaking. It starts off as a choked sob that she tries to stifle it, but it all rushes out. The damn is broken and Clarke finds herself weeping into the chest of the first person to see how hard it was for her to keep up pretenses and stay anyway. Bellamy doesn’t let go. Instead, he holds her tighter, hugging Clarke closer and she cries.

 

After a few minutes, Clarke pulls away, wiping under her eyes. “Sorry about that,”

 

“You don’t need to be sorry for that, Clarke.” Bellamy says. “It’s been a lot.”

 

“It really has, hasn’t it?” Clarke asks, laughing despite herself. She scrubs under her eyes and looks up at the man. “I can’t believe you actually believe me, to be honest.”

 

“It is a fantastic tale.” Bellamy says. “But no more so than everything else we’ve experienced. So, have you given much thought about how you’re going to get back?”

 

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” Clarke says with a shrug. “I would assume if I could make it back to the pieces of the Ark I came from, maybe that would be a start. But I’m unsure of how any of this came to be. One moment I was in the Smithsonian, the next I was here.”

 

“You know,” Bellamy says. “Arkadia is built up of pieces of the broken Ark. We could find remnants of whatever you came by there?”

 

Clarke stops in her tracks. “Y-You… You’d help me go home?”

 

Bellamy hesitates. It’s clear he never truly thought of it that way until she said something, his eyes falling down to the earth once more. He takes a breath before looking at her, more earnest than she’s ever seen him. “Yes.” He says shortly, his voice rasping like he wasn’t quite willing to say it out loud. He looks at her, his gaze unflinching and raw, and a part of her feels as though he’s as unwilling to say goodbye as she feels in this moment. His eyes flicker from her down to her lips and back up again, his jaw clenching before he says, “Yes, I will.”

 

Except, Clarke isn’t sure what ‘home’ is anymore. Even before she came here, she was wandering the earth, wondering where she fit in after a ruthless war.

 

She can’t respond to him. Clarke doesn’t know how she feels about returning to her time, knowing these people could use her hear.

 

The tension is broke when Bellamy shakes his head and gives her a bright smile. “So, the first thing I need to know is about the Smithsonian. What’s it like – is the Greek and Roman history wing as amazing as I imagine it?”

 

The tension dissipates, but there’s something rumbling underneath. As she answers question after question about the various museums she’s been to, Clarke tries to figure out what it is.

 

Then again, maybe she doesn’t want to know.

 

***

 

“Thank god you two are back, Wells was driving me fucking nuts.” Is the greeting Murphy gives them when they make their way into Arkadia. So, not much has changed.

 

Bellamy is chatting casually as one can with people as he and Clarke enters, his mind still reeling from the conversation in the woods. There’s a small part of him that thinks that Clarke could be a spy or genuinely crazy, but nothing else makes as much sense. As much as it doesn’t make any sense.

 

He watches as Clarke gives Wells a hug, the man clutching her as they pull away, beaming. He can’t help but stare. Thinking of saying goodbye to her, even though she doesn’t belong in this time, creates an ache in his chest that he can’t ignore. He sees her embrace Raven and Monty, Murphy and Octavia, and he has to look away.

 

She was never theirs.

 

She was always meant for another people – another time – and like everyone else he’s found himself loving, meant to leave. He never thought he would feel the way he did for Clarke. Love was something that was a weakness in these parts – something that could be used against you. Something that separated those who survived and those who died. But when they were in Mount Weather, Clarke’s gun pointing at Cage’s head as she begged him not to do something stupid, something shifted.

 

He already did something stupid.

 

He risked ten people’s lives for three. He did everything he could to get Clarke, Monty, and Jasper back, when most people would acknowledge the risk wasn’t worth it. “Nice work, Blake,” someone says, clapping his shoulder. Bellamy startles when Miller stands next to him, removing the strap of his gun from around his neck. “We got them all out.”

 

Bellamy can’t help but smile at his friend and second. “How’s your dad?”

 

“He’ll live. Abby says that he wouldn’t have if Clarke hadn’t made that tourniquet. I need to thank her – she could’ve been shot on sight, but she risked her life for my dad.” Miller turns to him, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t care where she’s from, Bellamy.”

 

Bellamy recoils. “I’m sorry?”

 

“I’ve decided I don’t care. Grounder, Mount Weather, Arkadian, I don’t care. She risked her life for Jasper, for Monty, for my dad – if you ask me, it doesn’t matter where someone comes from. It matters what they do when they’re here.”

 

Bellamy can’t help but stare at the man. He’s being cryptic, he’s being honest – but most importantly, it’s as if he knows. He tries to figure out what Miller knows, but is cut off when Miller looks to the entrance of Arkadia. “I just wanted to say thank you to her, then I’m gonna go sit with my dad. Listen Bellamy, you need to stop worrying about where she’s from and recognize all she’s done since she’s been here.”

 

“Miller—”

 

“Okay, Monty and Clarke stopped with world’s longest hug. Imma try and squeeze in there.”

 

He runs away before Bellamy can say anything further, leaving him to his thoughts. It’s a dangerous thing.

 

So he goes to join the group huddle that seems to be forming by those of the Drop ship, everyone excitedly chattering upon everyone return. When Bellamy joins them, he’s surrounded by all those he fought so hard to keep alive and outside of Arkadia. He wonders if they blame him at all for trading their sovereignty for a rescue mission. As he looks at all their faces, he doesn’t see a single angry one, all relieved that they’ve returned.

 

“I told you we could do it, Blake!” Murphy says, punching his arm. “You’re such a dick for not believing me.”

 

“I believe it was _you_ who constantly said we all are going to die.”

 

“I’m not wrong! We’re all going to die some day. Death is coming for us all.”

 

“Cheerful, thanks for that, Murphy.”

 

“I think this calls for moonshine!” Monty exclaims. “Because not only did my kidnappers not give me a bed, they also did not give me alcohol! The audacity!”

 

“You really need to sort out your priorities.” Raven drawls.

 

“I think his priorities are about right.” Murphy offers. “The first time I’ve sided with Green over Reyes. What a momentous day.”

 

“Please don’t put me against Raven, I will not win.” Monty pleads.

 

“Too late! The line’s been drawn!”

 

Raven gives Murphy a look. “I would hate for us to get out of mortal peril for me to murder you immediately.”

 

“You and literally everyone else here. You ain’t special.”

 

Bellamy laughs, and wraps his arms around the two of them. “Don’t make me make you two put on your get along shirt.”

 

Raven’s head whips towards him. “Never. Again.”

 

“Don’t lie, you loved being that close to me.”

 

“I had to bathe for a week straight.”

 

“I could’ve joined you, or…”

 

“Okay, enough of this, please.” Wells groans. “I would like to save myself from having to chop my own ears off. Reyes, please get higher standards than Murphy.”

 

“For what?” Murphy cries. “Someone like you?”

 

Wells turns to Clarke. “Lord, give me strength.”

 

She cracks a smile and giggles, looking away from the lot of them. It warms something inside of Bellamy that he knows he needs to get under control. He can’t be falling for someone he can’t have. “I think we all deserve a drink!” He exclaims. “What do you say?”

 

There are a few cheers and Bellamy smiles at the lot of them, making his way over to Clarke. “What do you say, Princess? You look like you could use a drink.”

 

“I could use more than one.”

 

“Then have more than one. We don’t have anyone actively trying to kill us, which I think is cause to celebrate.”

 

“I suppose it is.” Clarke says with a smile. “Will you join me”  


Bellamy can’t help himself – he lifts an eyebrow at her. “Clarke, are you asking me to have a drink with you?”

 

“I am,” she responds with a smile. There’s something sad in her smile and that’s when Bellamy knows.

 

They are going to part ways.

 

Bellamy tries not to think too hard about it. She’s smiling at him and he’s feeling like there could be something more than fighting. That there is something more to life than simply surviving.

 

“How could I possibly say no to that?” Bellamy says, trying to keep the sorrow out of his voice. “Lead the way, Princess.”

 

Clarke beams at him and the two weave their way through the throng of people to where Monty is, passing out jars of Moonshine. Clarke grabs two of them and turns back to Bellamy, handing it to him. “I think this is cause for a toast.”

 

“A toast?”

 

“To a peaceful, quiet evening.”

 

Bellamy can’t hide his smile. “To a peaceful, quiet evening.”

 

“Fuck that!” Murphy cries, rushing over and wrapping his arms around them. “Let’s get drunk!”

 

Bellamy can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at his friend. “Oh boy.”

 

Clarke peeks at him past Murphy. “Oh boy, indeed.”

 

***

 

When Clarke wakes up, she realizes a collection of facts: 1) she is more hungover than she can remember being in a really long time and 2) there are about five different people pressed against her. Clarke lifts her head and sees a sea of people around her, all limbs tangled up. She has a brief flashback of the cold nights at war, surrounded by people that have become her family.

 

Now, here she is again.

 

Her legs are tangled up with Murphy’s, Raven’s got her arm thrown over her shoulder, and she has her own head resting on someone’s chest. Peering up, she sees a mess curls above her, a hand behind their head as they slept.

 

Then she makes two more realizations: 1) they’re still outside, the faint light coming from the sun as it rises over the crest of the mountains shining in her eyes. She doesn’t know why they never made it inside the vessel or why everyone just let them collapse out on the ground, but here they are, all tangled on each other. The final realization is that her head is on Bellamy’s chest, her hands tucked within themselves as he has thrown a loose arm around her waist.

 

Clarke panics.

 

She panics because this is exactly the kind of intimacy and closeness she should _not_ be participating in. Even surrounded by those that she would now consider close friends, she feels the need to get out of it – somehow reject any and all things that have to do with Bellamy. Because she’s veering very close to something scandalous.

 

Clarke isn’t sure when the goal stopped being getting back home. She tells herself it’s because she’s gone from one life threatening situation to another, hopping the line between alive and dead. But somewhere along the way, she lost her way. She allowed herself to draw closer to people she had no right knowing. And then most fatally, she found herself closer to a man she had no right being with.

 

Clarke lifts her head a gently untangles herself from the others. They shift and groan, but no one wakes. Instead, they merely wrap themselves with one another. She takes a pause before trying to carefully take off Bellamy’s arm. Looking at the man before her, the sunlight glimmers off his skin and she wonders if she’s ever seen someone so beautiful. Bellamy is the type of man that she never expected to be as charming as he is, deep in freckles and goodness, wanting to simply save those he loves. Clarke has told herself that she can’t ignore the fact that she’s desperately attracted to him, nor can she have him.

 

So she tries to carefully lift his arm off of her waist, only to cause a sleeping Bellamy to pull her tighter. His arm tightens, dragging her closer so that her whole body is pressed against his, shifting his head so it settles in the crook of her neck. Clarke stills. She stills because for a moment, she lets herself wonder what it would be like to allow herself this vice.

 

It’s easy to rationalize when she can say the sentence ‘it’s time travel.’

 

But it’s not real. None of it is, because she’s not really here. Her home is years in the past. She has people – she has friends – she has a life. But that life grows more distant the longer she stays there.

 

She has to get out of here. It’s too close, it’s too comfortable.

 

Gently extricating herself from Bellamy, Clarke manages to stand without waking anyone. Bellamy doesn’t draw anyone close to him after she leaves; all he does is wrap his arms close to himself and shiver. Clarke finds herself struggling to leave, watching the group of them rest together.

 

With one longing look, Clarke moves across the ground of Arkadia, passing people as they arise for the day. There’s a handful of guards at the entrance of the site, some less alert than others. It must be the end of the evening shift, all those standing there shifting uncomfortably on their feet. It’s the best time she could possibly ask for – each of the guards a little more weary than the next.

 

This is how it has to be. She has to go before her heart is drawn closer to any of those here. The longer she stays, the more painful it is. The harder it will be to convince herself to return.

 

Peeking past a few of the guards, she notices on the north side, two are sleeping. She slinks across to that side, getting close to the two sleeping. Waving a hand in front of their faces, Clarke smiles wryly when no one moves.

 

As she prepares herself to run into the woods, a voice startles her. “Going somewhere?”

 

Clarke sucks in a breath before turning around. When she does, she’s face to face with a person she’s never seen before. The woman who stands before her peers at her interestedly. She has lines on her face true of someone whose seen more than any human should, and there’s a small pin on the corner of her jacket.

 

The Chancellor.

 

Clarke tries her best to remain as neutral as she can, seeing as she’s been caught trying to sneak out. “I’m just exploring – I’ve never been to Arkadia before.”

 

“No, you haven’t, have you?” The woman asks, her pauses between words saying much more than she is. She strides past Clarke to the guards. Clarke’s worried for a moment, but when the woman shakes them awake and they panic, she says gently, “I think it is time for you to get some rest. I’ll send out the next watch.”

 

When the woman straightens, she fixates back on Clarke. “Why don’t you come with me? We can have some breakfast and catch up. I think I should meet the woman who has been causing such a stir on the Ground.”

 

Clarke knows she’s not asking. So, she follows the woman as she weaves through Arkadia, pausing only to make sure Clarke is following her. After some tense silence, the woman says, “As you know, I’m Chancellor Griffin, but you can call me Abby.”

 

At first Clarke is relieved, but that’s when she knows she’s screwed. Abby hides it as a pleasantry, but the woman knows that Clarke has no idea who she is. Clarke swallows and says, “Clarke.”

 

“Yes, I know. Although not because of our records.” She continues. “But because I’ve been informed that a woman from the Ark has been wandering around from a piece of the Ark. Except myself – nor anyone else who I’ve consulted – knows you.”

 

Clarke isn’t sure what to say. She didn’t expect the woman to go straight into it, so she allows the silence to settle. Abby motions for her to follow into a room, which Clarke knows is the beginning of the end. Except there’s nothing she can do. All she can do is follow the Chancellor into a room with a small desk.

 

Abby motions for her to sit across the desk, pulling out two cups and a thermos. She pours something steaming into the cups and slides one to Clarke. “I have asked someone to get two breakfast rations for us, so we don’t need to interrupt our conversation.”

 

“That’s… smart.” Clarke says carefully. She grabs the cup and takes a small sip. “What exactly is it do you want to know?”  


Clarke isn’t sure how it happened, but she went into one den of bears to another. She doesn’t think Abby will be a cruel as Cage seeing as she just rescued her people, but it’s just as precarious. Abby smiles at her. “I’ve you have an affinity for the medical practices.”

 

Whatever Clarke expected the woman to say, that wasn’t it. She tries to think of what the woman could possibly be referring to, but she doesn’t know enough. Clarke curses herself for letting her guard down and not getting as much information from Bellamy as she possibly could. “Who told you that?”

 

“Jasper,” Abby says, folding her hands on her desk. “He says the only reason he was alive long enough for Mount Weather to start healing him was because you were there. And Sergeant Miller. And an array of others have mentioned it. You have a real affinity for medical triage.”

 

Clarke takes a moment. Perhaps this is it. This is her way to stay within the walls of Arkadia without being noticed. “Yes. I have extensive triage training.”

 

“Who trained you?” Abby asks.

 

“I don’t think you know them. It was still very early in my training and I was preparing for what happened when the Ground was livable.” Clarke lies, trying to remain neutral.

 

“I probably know them,” Abby says.

 

“There are a lot of people on the Ark, Chancellor.”

 

Abby looks at her. A wry smile stretches across her face. “Do you know what my position on the Ark was before I was given the role of Chancellor?”

 

Clarke’s mouth dries.

 

“I don’t believe you do, because I don’t believe you were on the Ark. Because if you were, you would’ve known that I am the Head of Medical. That I’ve been the Head of Medical for years, and that I single-handedly started the campaign for Ground Triage.”

 

Clarke stills. The woman stands up from her desk. “Now, I don’t expect you to tell me who you are. Mount Weather, Grounder – it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’ve infiltrated our compound, and were trying to sneak out today. There is only one thing I don’t understand.”

 

Clarke doesn’t dare to move.

 

“How did you get Bellamy Blake, of all people, to trust you?” Abby asks. “I’ve been trying to get the original one hundred in Arkadia since we landed, and they’ve fiercely refused, lead by the strong hand of Bellamy Blake. He has refused under no uncertain terms, to absorb back into use. That is, until, you and two others were captured. Bellamy doesn’t take to people lightly. What did you do?”

 

Clarke doesn’t answer.

 

“It must be something deep. Because there is no way that an innocent girl of the land would simply wander into an encampment headed by one of the most suspicious people who roamed the Ark. The man who did everything to protect his illegal sister. Why would he give that up for you?”

 

When Clarke still doesn’t answer, Abby sighs. She waves her hands and there’s a loud creak and several people join them. “I’m sorry, Clarke. You’ve done much for us. You’ve helped our people escape, you kept Sergeant Miller alive. But I cannot risk the lives of everyone within Arkadia on the hope that you are not a mole.” The woman straightens. “Clarke Griffin, you are found guilty of crimes against Arkadia. As a result of your actions, you are hereby sentence to death, commencing at sundown this evening.”

 

***

 

Clarke sits in a cell by herself.

 

A part of her knew. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to keep this façade up. She didn’t belong here and it isn’t like there’s enough people to hide within the crowd. She sits in the corner of the cell, the metal from the Ark cool against her back.

 

She doesn’t cry.

 

Clarke knows this was always bound to happen. Instead, she curses herself. She curses herself for getting caught up in everything and not focusing on the main goal: getting back home. She only has herself to blame, really. Only has herself to blame for being wrapped up so strongly in everything that was going on. Which is why she sits in a cell with nothing but the grimy tank top she was in at Mount Weather, her head against the wall.

 

“Clarke!”

 

Clarke startles at her name, her head whipping in the direction. She isn’t expecting anyone, especially not Wells, who runs to the cell and places his hands on the bars. “Clarke, are you okay?”

 

Clarke straightens and moves over to where he is. “Wells, what are you doing here?”

 

Wells looks behind him. “I was paying attention to you as you prattled on about herbs and plants. I slipped something to the guards so they’re sleeping, but I don’t have much time before someone notices. We need to figure out how to get you out of here.”

 

Clarke closes her eyes. “Wells, there’s no point. I have nothing to argue against. I—”

 

“They took your jacket?” Wells asks offhandedly. His eyes fall to a spot on Clarke’s shoulder.

 

There, on the side of her arm is a small tattoo. It’s innocuous enough for a tattoo. A small, yellow star with a faint black outline. She got it when she returned from war, along with the rest of her unit. It was a way for them to stay connected, even though she wasn’t with them anymore. “You must be cold,” Wells says faintly. “Y-You should have mine.”

 

Wells takes his off, revealing nothing more than a thin tank top, handing through the bars. “Wells, they’ll know—”

 

“No they won’t, I nicked it off of someone, just in case.” He looks behind him. “Did they not give you a thumbdrive?” Wells asks, his eyes wild. “If you have it on you, I can get you in the system. I’ve done it before.”

 

“W-What? A thumbdrive?” Clarke asks. “Wells, what are you—”

 

“You don’t need to pretend with me, Clarke!” Wells hisses. “I had my suspicions when you first got here, but now I’m certain. I know you’re not supposed to say anything, but I get it. Just give me your thumb drive and I’ll put you in the system!”

 

“Wells, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Clarke exclaims.

 

“Why are you here?” Wells asks earnestly. “Did they want you to see how to survive on the Ground too?”

 

“Wells, you and I both know I’m not a part of the original 100.”

 

“Why are you _here?_ Clarke, I need to know. I need to know if your mission is more important than mine, I need to know _why you are here.”_

“I don’t know!” Clarke exclaims. “I don’t know why or how I got here! I just wanted time after war, I wanted a normal life, I—”

 

“You don’t know?” Wells asks, his eyes widening. “Y-You mean, you didn’t…” There’s a loud noise and Wells looks behind his shoulder and then back to Clarke. “You’re an innocent.”

 

“What?”

 

Wells stares at her, his eyes watering. Swallowing, Wells closes his eyes. “You’re just an innocent.”

 

“Wells, what are you talking about—”

 

“I gotta go.” He says when the noise grows louder. “I’ll have Bellamy stall as long as possible.”

 

“Wells!”

 

“Bye Clarke,” Wells says, grabbing her hands. He squeezes them tightly and presses a soft kiss against her knuckles. “Oo-rah.”

 

Clarke stills. “W-What?”

 

Then he’s gone.

 

***

 

“This is a sad day.”

 

Clarke is on her knees, her hands tied behind her back. She can’t help the tears in her eyes as she stands there, not seeing anything. She can’t even feel her hands anymore. There’s a puddle by her left knee and her right leg is starting to go to sleep. Clarke knows it doesn’t matter. Not for much longer anyway.

 

She can barely hear anything.

 

She thinks someone may be shouting, and there is a ruckus somewhere. But all she sees is the life she’ll never have.

 

She loved Jonathan. She really did. Clarke didn’t know him after the war, but it doesn’t mean that she wouldn’t figure it out. They were supposed to buy a house and they spoke about getting a puppy. She was going to a hospital where there weren’t bombs going off all around her as she worked. There was a cute coffee shop down the road.

 

It was a life that is nothing more than a fantasy now.

 

Now, all she can see is the barrel of the gun that’s pointed toward her head.

 

It isn’t the Chancellor.

 

It’s a man she’s never seen before, his eyes hard and unforgiving. She knows that to them, she is a traitor. She’s a Grounder, she’s from Mount Weather, she’s someone else.

 

The world ends and humans still treat each other like they’ve always done.

 

Clarke turns away from him. She doesn’t want to see him. She wants to see someone she loves.

 

It doesn’t take long to find him.

 

There’s a row of guards in the corner of the courtyard, fighting people off. A whole throng of those resisting. Screaming. At the head is a man, his curls unmistakable as he tries to push back, cocking his arm back to land a solid punch across someone’s face.

 

His gaze catches hers.

 

She doesn’t feel guilty anymore, admitting that she loves Bellamy. Clarke resisted it because there was someone waiting for her. Granted, that didn’t change, but her circumstances did. Clarke knows it’s possible to love more than one person, but there is always someone you love more.

 

Clarke loves Bellamy more.

 

She can say that without remorse. Clarke wonders if maybe that was the cause of the time travel. If that their souls were destined to meet, and not even time could imprison them. In any other world, it would be a miracle.

 

In all but this one. In this one, it’s a tragedy.

 

It’s a tragedy because she’s looking at the man she’s fought loving. She sees the desperation in his eyes to get to her, to try and save her. That’s what they did in this lifetime – they saved each other.

 

It only takes once.

 

Clarke tears her gaze away and focuses on the Chancellor. “Any day where a life ends is sad. As a physician, I have vowed to do no harm. But as your Chancellor, I have vowed to keep you safe. So this is a necessary tragedy. A necessary life.” Abby turns to Clarke. “Clarke, due to crimes of treason, you are hereby sentenced to death. Do you have any last words?”

 

“I will say them for her!” Someone shouts. Wells pushes past the crowd, his eyes red. He’s still in the thin t-shirt and suddenly the jacket he’s given her feels heavy. “This isn’t her fault, she’s an innocent!”

 

“Someone remove him.” Abby says, but Wells strikes the first person who tries.

 

“It’s me you want!” Wells exclaims.

 

“Wells!” Clarke cries. “What are you doing?”

 

“It is I that infiltrated the original one hundred. And it was to save Clarke.” Wells reaches in his pocket and pulls out a gun and points it at those running to restrain him. “Do you really think Octavia was the only one hidden under the floor? I was just better at hiding Clarke.”

 

“Wells!”

 

“Shut _up,_ Clarke.” Wells cries. “I can prove it! We got these when we were teenagers, as a promise that I would always protect her.”

 

Wells lifts up the sleeve of his t-shirt.

 

Tattooed on his arm is a small, yellow star with a thin line.

 

He moves to where Clarke is, taking off her jacket, revealing hers. “ _I_ was the one who hid Clarke because someone begged my parents. I got myself arrested to go to the Ground and snuck Clarke down here.” When he says that, he looks over at Bellamy, who is staring at him. Wells nods at the man, turning back to Abby. “I have always defended the innocent. That’s why I wanted to be a fight in the first place. I will not turn my back on someone.”

 

He turns to where Clarke is. “Oo-rah.”

 

Clarke now can’t feel her legs for a whole other reason.

 

Wells is from the past.

 

“Wells,” Clarke says.

 

“And I will not let you execute her!” Wells cries. “She is innocent!”

 

Wells fires off a shot and chaos erupts in the compound. People are shouting and fighting, and suddenly Clarke isn’t staring at the barrel of a gun anymore. She can hear the deranged shout of Wells as he yells at them about innocent people. “Authority should derive from the consent of the governed, not form threat of force!” He bellows. “You worry about Grounders and Mount Weather, when it’s your hands that you need to look at!”

 

“Get up,” someone hisses in her ear.

 

Clarke flinches, only to see Bellamy at her side, dragging her to her feet. “Bellamy—”

 

“We got to go.”

 

“Wells—”

 

“Clarke! There’s nothing we can do for him. We _have_ to go.”

 

“But—”

 

As he drags her further away from Arkadia, she can see the throng of people close in on Wells, his eyes afraid. When she and Bellamy are at the mouth of the compound, Clarke catches his eye. “Oo-rah!” He shouts, thrusting his hand in the air.

 

Clarke sucks in a breath before saying quietly, “Oo-rah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: …
> 
> Yes. Wells is GAELIS.
> 
> A bunch of people guessed this earlier, but he is. I didn’t want to do an explitive and straight up explain what he’s doing there, and it’ll be touched on again and WELLS WILL RETURN (hint hint hint), but he was there after getting out of the military, he was recruited to try and figure out how to survive any threat of apocalypse. So he thought Clarke was a part of the same mission, but when he realized she was here by accident, he wanted to save an innocent life.
> 
> BECAUSE HE’S WELLS.
> 
> I hurt my own heart ☹ ☹ ☹

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Goodbye world. *looks at self* Why have you done this.
> 
> Yes! S2 Canon divergence again! Will there be flirty Bellarke? YES. Will there be endless delinquents? YES. Will there be a war that will tear at the morality of humanity?! OF COURSE.
> 
> Also: just as a fun insert, the song Clarke hears when she's looking at the Ark is the Grounders Theme: Take a Life With Me. If you haven't listened to it recently, highly recommend a listen. It's so BEAUTIFUL.
> 
> I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I have no excuse.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed! So much love to you all!


End file.
